


The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Chaptered, Draco: Sexually Repressed, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, HP: EWE, Hermione: Sexually Liberated, Post - Deathly Hallows, Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through a series of uncontrollable events and deliberate decisions, Draco and Hermione are now, a little more than a decade after the war, both working as Aurors. Draco is a complete git and the only one who'll pair up with him for anything is Hermione. This is suiting her less and less, though, so she tries to open his eyes to all the things that have changed. An open-eyed Draco, however, is a force to be reckoned with.</p>
<p><b>Betas:</b> Margot LeFaye (1-5), Dollfaced and MazVN. <b>Britpick:</b> robs55 (1-7) and filigree1 (8+).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Banner by **Dollfaced**. :)
> 
>   
> 

Hermione yawned as she made her way to her cubicle. Maybe it would be a slow day and she could take a nap. She missed naps. There should be more naps in the world. She never truly appreciated naps when she was younger, but these days she just couldn't pull an all-nighter like she used to.

Harry appeared in the doorway to his office. The lucky bugger. She wanted to be Head of Office too so that she could have her own office. It would make for nice, uninterrupted naps. 

'Hermione?' he asked.

She sighed. No nap. Being an Auror was almost like work.

She entered Harry's office and saw that Malfoy was already seated there. 'Pairing mission?' she asked with an involuntary wrinkle of her nose. 'Stay in or go out?' She hoped they weren't going anywhere. Being off alone with Malfoy too often could be rather taxing. She could do no more than one _short_ mission like that per month without going bonkers, and she'd already done her due for the next six months if she was adding up correctly.

'Sort of, and out,' Harry said, sitting down behind his desk. 'We need you to do surveillance.' They both immediately objected and Harry frowned at them. 'Somebody has to do it!'

'You don't understand,' Hermione said, 'he... chews things.'

'Those things are called food, Granger.'

'Yes, but you chew them loudly and it drives me mad! It's just _chew, chew, chew_...'

'She, on the other hand, keeps _organising_ everything.'  
.  
'Oh, yes, organisation is so very bad.'

'After the first fifteen times you sort the notes, I'm fairly sure they should be in order!'

'New plan!' Harry snapped. 'Smith and Hawkes do the surveillance.'

Both Hermione and Malfoy drew a relieved breath.

'Hermione, I appreciate your... willingness... and your... flexibility... in accepting assignments involving Malfoy,' Harry then began, glancing at Malfoy, who couldn't even be arsed to sneer at this point. He was used to being the pariah of the office, but it was his own damn doing, so he must actually prefer it this way. Of course he would prefer it this way; this way was annoying.

'It's not a problem, Harry,' she said, taking pleasure in the way Malfoy scowled at her smugness. They really did bring out the worst in each other.

'But the fact of the matter is that your bickering has become too much. Your reports are always chock-full of "he said-she said" regarding perfectly irrelevant things. It's exhausting to sort through.'

'Are you calling us unprofessional?' Malfoy calmly asked whilst Hermione just gaped.

'I am saying that I am not your referee. You're grown people, and I get enough of this from my _children_. Things would be vastly better and easier around here if you two could get along, so I have another task for you. Some strange activity has been reported in a forest area in Scotland, and we need to figure out whether it's anything to worry about. You will go there, and I suggest you work out your differences whilst looking into it.'

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. 'And by suggest you mean—?'

'Order.'

'So, what?' Hermione asked, frowning. 'You expect us to sit down and talk and never annoy each other again?'

'I expect you to be adults,' Harry replied. 'There's a Muggle-style cabin at the forest's edge, which you will utilise for the duration. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave today. Oh, and only use magic if you absolutely have to.'

'Doesn't that sound cosy,' Malfoy muttered.

'Look, Harry,' Hermione slowly said, leaning forward. 'The fact of the matter is that Malfoy and I have been isolated together in various cottages and _much_ smaller places for weeks at a time before, and it never made things any better. I don't think it'll help.'

'It has to help,' Harry calmly replied. 'Or I'll fire both of you.'

* * *

Draco dropped his holdall to the floor of the cabin and looked around, feeling anything but optimistic. Granger and he _never_ got along when there were things like dishes, laundry and cleaning that had to be taken care of. Not even that time they'd been undercover as a married couple for three months. They each had their own ideas of how to do things, and they'd just never managed to mesh them.

'Do you really think he'll fire us?' he asked, stepping over the holdall, knowing that leaving it there would annoy Granger, but not caring. Or rather, he cared. He _hoped_ it would annoy her, because that was just about the best entertainment he was ever going to get out here.

'No, I don't,' she replied, appearing from investigating the kitchen area. 'At least not me.'

'Oh, you're sure of that, are you?' Draco asked, scowling, and then he stopped to stare at what appeared to be a stuffed animal head of some kind. _Good grief._ And he had to _live_ here?

'Well, yes.' Granger said after a mere glance at the vulgar stuffed head. 'I am his long-time friend and a good employee. I am also the godmother to all three of his kids. You, he doesn't care much for, one way or the other.'

'If he fired me, everyone would think that he was only keeping you on because of your friendship. Firing you would set an example.' And he was every bit as good an employee as Granger, but he didn't bother mentioning that. The fact was that he was difficult to pair off and that made him worth less than her, since an Auror that was infinitely tied to the office really couldn't get much work done. It didn't matter how well he handled himself when he was out if he could never get a partner and actually _go_.

Granger waltzed over to an armchair, sat down and put her chin in her hand. 'Nope. He'll never fire me.'

She was probably right and that annoyed Draco all the more. 'Does this one at least have two bedrooms? You snore.'

Granger drew herself up. 'I most certainly do not!'

'Is that a no, then?' He went in to check what was behind the different doors.

'It's odd, isn't it?' Granger asked thoughtfully.

'What is?'

'How... well we know each other in a way. We _should_ be able to get along.'

Draco snorted. 'Trust me, Granger. You don't know me half as well as you think you do.'

'Oh, please. I've shared a bed with you; I know you talk in your sleep sometimes.'

'You might have shared a bed with me, but you haven't _shared a bed_ with me. That right there is a big difference. And I don't tell you everything, not even in my sleep. Far from it.'

'I know more than you think.'

'Yeah?' he asked, giving up on finding more bedrooms and throwing his holdall onto the bed, before returning to join Granger in the sitting area. 'Am I allergic to anything? Do I have a pet? Which is my favourite Quidditch team?'

'Pffft,' she waved a hand. 'Inconsequential. Although I am very certain you do _not_ have a pet. You're not a pet person.'

'Then do tell me what you know,' he said, sitting down.

'I know that you love sweets more than any grown man should,' she said. 'And I know that you'll claim to favour Pepper Imps, but really you prefer Chocoballs.'

'No, I prefer Pepper Imps.' He actually didn't, but he didn't want her to look so smug. A bloke could prefer chocolate if he wanted to!

'Wrong. You eat at least three times as many Chocoballs when they're available. It's a wonder that you aren't pudgy by now.'

He scowled. He did not eat that many Chocoballs! 'That's because they hardly taste like anything!'

'I bet there's even a bag of them in your holdall.'

'There is not!' There were two bags.

She raised an eyebrow at him. 'Want me to go check?'

'You would just love to get to look through my underwear, wouldn't you? And even if you did know my taste in sweets, that doesn't really say much about me.'

Granger pursed her lips in thought and then shrugged. 'I know that whoever your girlfriend is now, she isn't the same girlfriend you had six months ago.'

That pulled Draco up short. 'What? How?'

'It's complicated.'

'Then simplify it.'

She snorted and waved a hand. 'Fine. With each relationship, your behaviour changes a little to accommodate the witch. Sometimes you will avoid working late, avoid working on weekends, or avoid going away, respectively. Sometimes you're really relaxed in a relationship, and sometimes you're really tense. And sometimes you're just single and stay out far too late in the evenings, presumably looking for a prospect, coming in to work tired and hungover.' She frowned in thought, and then added, 'Oh, and you smell differently from girlfriend to girlfriend.'

' _What?_ '

'Your scent. It changes. I assume it's because you're too cheap to use your own shampoo, because when we're off like this, you always bring the same kind.'

'I don't know what to think about you watching—' or _smelling_ '—me like that.'

'If it affects your work, it often affects me. It pays for me to know your mood. And, by the way, just settle for one witch already. It must be exhausting to keep doing that dance.'

'Look who's talking,' he said, really annoyed that Granger apparently _did_ know him better than he'd thought. He preferred not to talk to her much about his personal life because it was... well, personal, so it was kind of unnerving that she knew so much about it.

'I'm not you,' she calmly stated.

'No, you're _definitely_ not me. I can't remember the last time I saw anything to indicate that you were even seeing someone!' Score one for Draco! Well, sort of. It was actually a rather lame comeback. Even he had to acknowledge that.

She just pursed her lips dismissively, not at all acknowledging his dig. 'The last time on a case, there wasn't much to indicate it. Remember that small town we went to last month? The wild goose chase?'

He shook his head. No. They'd been together all the time there. 'I'd have known if you saw someone there.'

'Not after you went home. I stayed for a bit.' She smiled as if remembering something pleasant. 'It was fun while it lasted.'

Draco realized he'd been staring and blinked to clear his head. 'I don't believe you.'

Granger yawned. 'Then you, as I expected, don't know me as well as I know you, and that may well be part of the problem.' She got to her feet. 'Maybe you should try to let go of what you think you know and try to notice what's actually going on. I'm not the same person I was in school, none of us are. If you stopped seeing everyone in that same old light and casting yourself as the outsider, then maybe the other people at work would be more willing to give you a chance as well. It's too late to work now, so I'm going to bed. Don't wake me when you finally get around to it.' She sauntered into the bedroom.

Draco blinked. Where the hell had that all come from? He wasn't the one with the problem—everyone else was! He was just trying to live his own life with as little interference as possible. She was just using this whole "get along" thing to spin tales and have fun by messing with his head. It was, after all, one of her favourite pastimes to make him unsure of whether he'd rather be killed than rely on her for support. Although, fine, what she'd just said did sound kind of genuine. But that was the thing with her; she would say things that seemed earnest and insightful, but they were really just designed to make you doubt yourself.

She was very devious that way. He would've appreciated that deviousness if he hadn't been on the receiving end of it for about seven years now.

It didn't matter how he tried to view the War Heroes or how he tried to treat them—nothing would ever change. That much was clear by now.

He heard the muffled sound of his holdall being shoved to the floor.

* * *

Hermione snuggled into her cover, trying not to wake for just five more minutes. Mmm. Sleepy-times were the _best_. Maybe if she didn't open her eyes, she could pretend that she hadn't woken up, and when work didn't get done, it would have been an accident and not at all intentional. She smiled and burrowed a little deeper.

Something was less than perfect, though. There was a weight on her waist, heavy enough to twist her back a little and make it ache. 'Ugh, Malfoy,' she muttered, shoving at the wrist and hand that had landed palm-up on top of her and sitting up to look at him, sprawled on his back with his eyes closed. 'You're doing that _thing_ again!' Discontent to be awake, she picked up her pillow and smashed it down on his head, leaving it there as she got up and padded off towards the bathroom.

'Ungh,' he groaned behind her. 'Why can't you ever wake me without using violence?'

She picked up her toothbrush and went back while brushing. 'Why can't you ever _not_ grope me in my sleep?'

'Don't brush your teeth in here; it's disgusting,' he said without any heat. They had this discussion roughly every morning when they shared sleeping quarters. In fact, they had _all_ these discussions every morning. 'And I didn't grope you. Have you _seen_ the size of this bed? Why won't they ever let us magically alter the furniture of these places?'

Hermione padded out to spit and back to continue arguing. 'Because we're not supposed to use magic.'

'Nobody will see!'

'No. It's the rules, and you'll just have to live with it.'

'Then I guess you'll just have to live with my touch,' he snapped, also getting up and going to the bathroom. When he began brushing his teeth, he stayed there.

Hermione shuffled back out into the small bathroom and shoved at him with her hip and shoulder, so she could spit and rinse her mouth, and she took her sweet time doing it, too.

He didn't even comment. It was par for the course.

After she was done to her own satisfaction, she said, 'You know, you _could_ sleep on the sofa.'

He spat into the sink and scowled at her. 'Did you see the size of _that_? And I don't fancy getting all kinds of aches and pains just because you're prissy about where my hand ends up when I'm not even conscious. You take the sofa!' He half-turned his back on her, effectively crowding her from the bathroom, and finished his own tooth-brushing.

'I will not take the sofa,' Hermione announced from the narrow hall with her nose up and her arms crossed. 'You will just have to stop molesting me.'

He turned back to face her. 'Believe me, Granger,' he very earnestly said. 'You would be the last person I would molest.' He pushed past her and went back to their bedroom, rummaging for something more clothes-like than the pyjama bottoms he thankfully always wore to bed.

She wore pyjamas whenever they were out as well. Their familiarity had limits, after all.

Suddenly Hermione giggled.

Malfoy stopped mid-motion as he was shuffling through his holdall. 'What?'

'Oh, I just remembered something,' she said, sitting down on the bed and smiling innocently at him. His suspicious glance only made her beam wider.

'What?' he asked again, already sounding resigned.

'Back when Ron and I were still together, he thought you were gay. At first, anyway.'

Malfoy dropped what he was holding and stared at Hermione in a second of unguarded shock. Then he looked back down at his holdall, his cheeks pink, and began rummaging with much more vigor than was needed. 'Why would he think that?' he asked, sounding tense.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Homophobia, Malfoy? Really?'

'Just answer the question,' he said sharply.

She shrugged. 'Because you and I would be out for weeks at a time and not the slightest ever happened. It didn't matter if we were sharing a bed, or drunk, or in mortal danger, or—' she frowned slightly '—or all three at once.' She grinned. 'Remember that?'

Malfoy scowled and finally decided on a jumper, T-shirt and trousers. Hermione always enjoyed the look of distaste on Malfoy's face when he was forced to wear Muggle clothes and now wasn't an exception. He wrinkled his nose at the trousers but then looked resigned. 'Your Weasley was biased,' he said, sounding a lot more casual now. 'What wizard about to marry someone wants to believe that other wizards can _easily_ keep their hands off their witch?'

Hermione was too used to Malfoy to be offended. 'That's what I told him. But he still thought you were gay until he met your girlfriend at the time. And even after, he had his doubts.'

Malfoy didn't respond, but simply took his clothes to the bathroom to change.

* * *

A wet, cold, grey autumn forest was _just_ the place Draco did not want to be. Ok, maybe the forest wasn't actually grey, but the sky was, and this was a miserable job to do on a miserable day.

'This would be a case of not being able to see the wood for the trees, then?' Granger said, humour in her voice.

'Oh, you're a hoot,' he drily responded. 'So, the suspicious activity was seen to the east, in the heart of the forest, during a full moon?'

'Yeah...' Granger said, wrinkling her nose. 'The reports are really vague, too. It could be some Muggle kids partying or doing one of those things where they _think_ they have magic. Or it could be werewolves. If there's an unregistered pack, we won't want to get near them on our own.'

Draco sighed. 'Muggle kids partying or dog-people... Great!'

Granger frowned in annoyance, but to her credit didn't comment on his slur. 'Some stolen magical artifacts turned up down in the village, so Harry wants us to see if there's a connection. We can go talk to the villagers first, in case it really _were_ just some Muggle kids.'

Draco sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Any chance we can go as siblings this time?'

'I told you before—we look nothing alike!'

'Siblings don't have to look alike.'

'And don't you think they'd find it odd that we're siblings living in a rented _one_ -bedroomed cabin?'

'Fine,' Draco grumbled. 'But please lay off the nauseating name-calling.'

'No promises,' she airily said. 'Think we can walk from here?'

'Do we have a choice?' he asked, turning and striding down towards the local village.

'I think they put a couple of Muggle bicycles behind the cabin.' Oh, now she was doing it on purpose!

'No, thank you,' he tersely replied.

'Just because you fell off it last time you tr—'

'I just prefer to walk, ok?' he snapped.

'Hmh.' Granger was mercifully quiet for a short while. 'We should shop for groceries.'

'Fine.'

'Anything in particular you think we need?'

'I don't know about you, but I could use some peace and quiet,' he growled. 'How about it, Granger? Five minutes without yammering?'

She softly sighed. 'You know, we're actually supposed to work on getting along better. It's affecting our work. And when Harry is threatening to fire us, I bet it's affecting the whole office.'

He stopped and glared at her. 'We will look at what they have at the store and shop accordingly, ok? You _know_ I can never remember what foods Muggles do and do not have, so it would be rather pointless to discuss it.'

'Fair enough,' she agreed.

As they walked on, Draco kept up a lengthy internal debate with himself. Granger got on his last nerve, she really did, but she also, unfortunately, had a point. They needed to get along. The thing was, he was so used to arguing with her that even when things probably could easily be ignored, he argued... just because. Making casual chit-chat with her was about as foreign a concept to him as moving to this Muggle village and getting a Muggle TV set and a Muggle car. But he needed to do it. They needed to get along.

He frowned. This shouldn't be so difficult. He had known her for almost two decades. 'How are... your parents?'

Granger snorted with laughter and then turned big, amused eyes on him. 'Effort noted,' she half-choked.

His frown deepened with annoyance. 'Fine,' he bit out, giving up on trying. Whatever. It wasn't like Granger hadn't been a nagging bitch since before he even woke up, anyway.

'No, no, it was... nice of you... to ask,' she said, clearly fighting back her amusement. 'It's just so... odd.'

'Isn't that what you wanted?'

She shrugged. 'To be quite frank with you, I'm not at all sure how we'll learn to get along. _On_ the job, we trust each other with our lives, but _off_ the job, we don't even trust each other with our first names.'

'That's not a trust issue.'

'Then what is it?'

'I never really thought about it,' he mused. 'I suppose that at some point we decided that calling each other by our first name would be a friendly thing to do and then we didn't.' Actually, he'd long since decided he wasn't about to let his guards down with any of the War Heroes. Keeping things nice, formal and—above all—impersonal had seemed the way to go.

'Maybe we should.'

'I think it's too late for that,' he said, uneasy at the thought. 

He knew he wasn't very popular at work, and he was fine with that; he just wanted to do his own thing. They were his backup in dangerous situations, but they weren't part of his life. They would never understand his life, anyway. They would never understand that to Draco's parents, his being an Auror wasn't something to be proud of; it was a disgrace. They would never understand the different social pressure he was constantly under, and how he was truly only here because it was the only way for him to cope with his past. He wasn't here to make amends or to aspire to become a hero himself. He was here because if someone like him had been here a decade ago—after the war, when he'd needed them—his life could have been so very different today.

'Oh, with _that_ attitude, I'm sure we'll get somewhere fast!' she huffed and then stalked off ahead of him.

The problem was that he'd never wanted to "get" anywhere in the first place. He was fine where he was. The bickering really wasn't that bad, and sometimes it was even amusing. Maybe they could just keep it down at work and everything would be fine. 

Yeah, maybe not.

Sighing, he realised that he would have to give up the safety of last names. He supposed it could have been worse. She could have been Potter.

* * *

'Fine,' Malfoy said, as if it pained him greatly. 'We'll try the... name... thing.'

'Oh, careful you don't wet yourself with enthusiasm!' Hermione grumbled. Normally she didn't really indulge in tantrums, but Malfoy was an expert in provoking them. It wasn't like it was such a huge deal to use first names. They'd known each other for eighteen years. _Eighteen years_. Sure, they hadn't really been close, but... she'd just offered him the proverbial olive branch and he'd been childish about it, and now she felt her own hackles rising.

'How typically female. I give you what you want, but now you don't want it? Let me guess, it's because of the _way_ I said it?' Malfoy's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Hermione turned back and walked straight up to Malfoy, shoving a finger in his chest. 'I'll take it, _Draco_ , but don't expect me to spend any more effort on this than you do!' Then she spun around and marched on. What a sexist _arse_!

The rest of the way to the village was spent in silence. Hermione had had just about all the "polite discourse" she could handle with Ma— _Draco_. He was so frustrating! He had no problem whatsoever with working with her, eating with her, or sleeping next to her, but using her name? Oh, no! That was too _personal_. 'I'll give you personal,' she grumbled, shoving open the door to the local grocer's.

Draco came in too closely behind her and she made it a point to step on his foot as hard as she could without letting on that it was on purpose. He grabbed her arm rather too firmly and warningly said, 'Watch where you're going, _darling_.'

'Sorry, sweetie,' she said, batting her eyes at him, and then turned away from him abruptly enough for her elbow to connect with his side.

His eyes narrowed at her. 'Why don't you find dinner while I chat with this nice man?' he silkily asked.

Hermione looked over at the man behind the counter and then did a double-take. Oh, nice! Who said there were no good things to be found out in the country? The shop assistant was a man with strong, symmetrical features, semi-long thick brown hair and the most startling blue eyes she'd ever seen. 'No,' she absent-mindedly said, while blindly grabbing for Draco's arm so he wouldn't go over there. 'I'll go.' She reached up and self-consciously patted down her hair. The humidity was hell, but hopefully it wasn't too bad.

'What? Why?' Draco asked, sounding like he was frowning. 'We're supposed to be a couple, remember?' The last thing was said so quietly only she could hear.

'Yes, well, we just became a very _open-minded_ couple,' she informed him.

'You've never done this before, why now?' he insisted.

'Think of this as an opportunity to get to know me better,' she said. 'Apart from being a bookworm and your partner, I am also a person. And as a person, I want to have a go at this bloke. Remember to get broccoli from the frozen section.' She patted his cheek without even looking up and sauntered over to the shop assistant.

* * *

Broccoli. He didn't _like_ broccoli! Bent on revenge, Draco went over to the frozen section and got a mix of peas and diced carrots instead.

So now they had to solve the cases of the partying Muggles and stolen artifacts whilst learning to get along _and_ getting dates for Gra—Hermione? It was unfair! _He_ didn't get to have any dates here! He ventured a glance at the Muggle man. He was very handsome, indeed. Draco couldn't blame Hermione for at least giving it a shot. Hell, if he'd been her, he would have wanted to give it a shot.

There was a brief bit of laughter from the counter as Hermione's flirtation was successful. So... what now? She expected full use of the bed whilst he was banished to the sofa? Hell, no! That would be unacceptable. He would _not_ endure that sofa even one night!

Irritably, he randomly plucked bread and other goods that it would make sense to need off the shelves. Weren't they supposed to be on a case right now?

'Oh, we have an open relationship,' he heard Hermione tell the Muggle. 'Don't we, dear?' she asked, raising her voice a little and cocking an eyebrow at Draco.

'Yes. Very open,' he replied. Then he smirked, just a little. 'But don't you think it's a good idea to wait until that strange, um, _rash_ of yours clears? Just to be safe?' He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but if she was going to have her fun, he wanted a little fun of his own.

'There is no rash,' Hermione hurriedly assured the Muggle as he was withdrawing. She shot Draco a murderous glance. 'He just thinks he's being funny.'

'Suit yourself,' Draco said, walking up and dumping all the foodstuffs on the counter. 'Just don't come to me when the itch and burn is driving you insane. I tell you, the last time she passed it on to me, it took _months_ for it to disappear.'

Hermione smiled sweetly at her Muggle. 'What's this shop's policy on murder?'

* * *

'Oi, Gr—Hermione, where are you going?' Malfoy yelled after her as she was angrily walking back towards the cabin with the groceries he had so carelessly picked out. There'd better be butter in there. He always forgot the butter. How could anyone live without butter? Also, he was an arse. But what else was new.

She presented him with two of her fingers.

He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. 'There's a tiny tourist shop right over there, I thought we'd—'

She pulled her arm free, barely believing his gall. 'Do what you want, _Malfoy_ ,' she hissed. 'I'm going back.' She was much too angry to even attempt to use his first name.

'What?' he asked, actually looking puzzled. 'You're upset that I teased you in front of your pretty Muggle?'

She bared her teeth at him. 'That is _not_ how to get along!' And he hadn't just teased her, he'd _humiliated_ her by insinuating that she was some kind of nasty slapper who'd pick up diseases on a regular basis. She was always safe when she was out and about. Always.

'And this is not how to not let it affect your work performance,' he countered, totally missing her point.

'Fuck you, Malfoy,' she viciously said. This was just so typical! She should have known he would be like this. 'Do you know how easily I could probably have got everything we needed to know? Or at least have found out who we needed to talk to? It would have hardly even been like work. Now _you_ do it.'

He snorted. 'You're going to sleep with people for information now?'

She just raised an eyebrow at him and took up walking again.

'You've done it before?' he asked her back. 'You're lying. I would have known that.'

'You just keep telling yourself that,' she called back to him. She was really much too irritated to explain that something could be business _and_ pleasure all at once. She just didn't see anything wrong with getting some bonus information when she went out with someone. She didn't mislead them and she didn't use the information to hurt them, so her conscience was clear.

But, of course, she'd always hid it from Malfoy because she hadn't wanted to offend his conservative sensibilities. Well, screw that. She could probably have got everything she needed for this ridiculous case and then he had to go and humiliate her with talk of mysterious rashes that she would indiscriminately spread around.

He seemed to remember to move and caught up with her. 'Does Potter know what a stellar employee he has, whoring herself out so—' He had to quickly deflect a bag of groceries as they were thrown at his head. Lamentably, however, toast and eggs weren't designed to kill when aimed at someone's head.

Hermione was so angry she was shaking with it. 'Just because I'm female and I have sex without expectations of a happily ever after does _not_ mean I'm a whore! So what if I could have gotten something useful from something pleasurable? I would have had my fun and I would have done my job and everyone would have won. Now look at where we are. I'm through trying to get along with you until you _get_ that. Have fun getting fired!'

He crossed his arms. 'Nice little lecture you have there. You have to give it often? Maybe to your mirror?'

She'd really prefer never to see his hateful, prejudiced excuse for a face ever again. She sneered at him. 'Leave and I'll finish the investigation by myself. I certainly don't need you for it. You're just in the way.'

'In the way of your job or in the way of your love life?'

'If you had such a big issue with this, you could have told me so in a less offensive manner! Don't worry, I _will_ write a report to Harry about why nothing is being done!'

Furthermore, she'd also tell _any_ witch she came across who might fancy Draco that in his opinion, witches that had sex for fun were whores, so they'd better stay clear of his bed.

Oh, yes. That sounded like a fun endeavour. The very idea cheered her enough that she was able to refrain from trying to end his life right now. Besides, he hadn't had the forethought to buy anything blunt and heavy.

Leaving Draco with groceries littered on the ground, Hermione stalked off to the cabin.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost dark by the time Draco let himself into the cabin. It wasn't often that Hermione got _this_ riled at him, but when she did, it was best to let her cool off before attempting to smooth things over well enough for them to move on. Who would have known that her love life was such a hot button issue with her?

He'd gone back into the village and had found a pub. He disliked it when he had to go to Muggle pubs on his own to talk to the locals, because even though he'd occasionally had to mingle with Muggles these past few years, he wasn't completely confident that he would understand everything they said and wouldn't accidentally say or do something completely off to them.

Hermione was much better at the whole Muggle experience than he was. In fact, often she'd gone alone to the pubs and would come home late with more information than he could usually gather in a week...

He froze mid-movement. Wow. His mind had just never... gone there. He would never ever have pegged Hermione as the type to _do_ that. But then again, maybe she hadn't. No, she probably hadn't. She'd been bluffing. Damn her and her love of mind-games. Of course she hadn't been seducing people for information.

Still, tonight _he_ had gone alone, and even though he'd hardly seduced anyone for information either, he'd heard enough to realise that the thing up in the forest probably wasn't Muggle kids partying. At least they weren't any Muggle kids known to the people at the pub.

'I hope you're only back to get your things!' Hermione called from the living area. Apparently she hadn't completely cooled down yet.

'Nope,' he said, 'but I have food.' He went in and dumped it in her lap. She was lying on the sofa, reading, ever the consummate bookworm. _This_ was the image he had of her—not someone who would go out and sleep with strangers for whatever reasons she had.

She wrinkled her nose and shoved the bag away. 'I ate.'

'All we have here is cereal.'

'So?'

'You can't live off cereal just to spite me.'

'That's where you're wrong. I can do whatever I want.' She began reading again, to dismiss him. She was actually pouting too. He loved how childishly he could make her behave.

'Fine,' he said with an exaggerated sigh. 'But then you won't get any of this.' He held up a second bag, the bottles clinking together.

Her book slowly lowered. 'No. No, no, no! You know what Harry said the last time we got drunk on the job. We're already in hot water!'

'That case was about catching a very dangerous murderer. This one is about the faint possibility of someone using a bit of magic or shifting in the woods on a full moon whilst selling off minor magical artefacts to the local antique shop.'

'Oh, did you visit that shop?' She suddenly looked interested. Well, at least she wasn't going to sulk in a manner that would botch the case. Potter might never fire her, but it would still have reflected poorly on both of them.

But then again, Hermione had never walked out on a case, no matter how annoyed she'd been with Draco. She'd walked out on _him_ and had nursed her resentment for a while, and then they'd continued. He could hardly complain since he pushed all her buttons on purpose, and if he didn't want her to respond to it, he could stop. It was just such a fun thing to do. 

At one point, she'd even seen through him and had refused to give him the response he wanted, but that had been even more fun. He'd loved to see her swallow her temper time and again, and when she'd finally blown up, it had been spectacular. Now she didn't bother not getting mad at him any more, and everyone got what they wanted. It wasn't like he didn't actually try to get on her good side afterwards. And, usually, he tried to behave when the case was serious. Some cases just... weren't that pressing. Petty thievery and the like wasn't something Draco was prepared to work around the clock for with no fun whatsoever. Murder, however, got his undivided attention. At least as undivided as it could get without him going bonkers.

'It's only open on Thursdays,' he replied. He sat down and pulled out a few of the different liquor bottles for Hermione to see. He might like sweets more than any grown man should, but she liked her booze more than any real lady should. It didn't matter much to her whether it was the Muggle or the wizarding variety.

'Harry is going to love what you spent all that Muggle money on,' Hermione muttered, seemingly having a hard time taking her eyes off the bottles.

'He's the one who wants us to get along, isn't he?' Draco reasonably said. 'We never do seem to have the same quality of conversation when we're sober.' If by "quality" you meant "cringeworthiness". He really didn't like it when Hermione decided to be frank, which usually happened whenever she became tipsy. But, still, alcohol was the easy way to get her to forgive him.

Hermione slowly sat up, putting away her book. 'You know, you're right about that. In a way, he actually ordered this!'

'Eat your food first,' he said, snatching the bottles out of her reach. 'I've seen you drink on an empty stomach and _that_ is not pretty.'

She scowled at him, but for once did as she was told.

* * *

Hermione was staring down at her Jägermeister, one of her top ten favourite drinks. Maybe even top five. She loved the colour, she loved the taste, she loved the smell, she loved the slightly burning sensation as it slid down her throat... 

'I'm fairly sure you're supposed to drink it from a smaller glass or with something non-alcoholic mixed in,' Malfoy was saying.

She glowered at him. 'I'll drink it any way I damn well please!' she announced and took a healthy swig. Hooooo-wheeee! Yep, now he was bearable to be around again.

She must have made a funny face, because he actually laughed at her and then leant back in his chair. 'You're such a boozer, Granger.'

'I am not!' she objected. 'I don't drink that often, and I always know when to stop.'

'What, when you pass out?'

'Exactly.' She took another swig. Like she'd ever passed out. Well, ok, she had, but not from overindulging in alcohol. Usually it was from a curse, and there was that one time from heat, but so far _never_ from alcohol.

'All right, but don't pass out on me just yet. We need to come up with _some_ way to appease Potter.'

'I thought we needed to get along.'

'Please. We've been working together, what? Seven years? Ever since I finished the training. I don't think we _can_ get along.'

Seven years? She did the math in her head. She'd been doing this job for a little more than ten years—ever since she'd finished her NEWTs at Hogwarts. She had accepted the offer extended to everyone who'd fought on the right side of the war to become an Auror without any additional training. Ron, Harry and Neville had gone the same route, but they'd done it straight after the war without finishing their NEWTs and Neville had since left to become an Herbology professor at Hogwarts. Ron had also talked about leaving to work with George at his shop, but so far that was just talk. There really wasn't much to do for the Aurors these days; they'd had to temporarily stop the training programme because they couldn't keep the young ones busy, and they currently encroached on the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol's and the Hit Wizards' territories to keep active. Hence this slow and rather irrelevant case.

Also, for the first time, she was actively wondering what Draco had done in the year after the war, before he'd started his own three year training programme. He never really spoke about it much.

'No, you're wrong,' she replied to the matter at hand with a shake of her head. 'It's you, who can't. You're driving poor Ron bonkers as well whenever you're paired off with him.'

He shrugged. 'I guess. But I've only been off with him a handful of times in total, so I don't worry about that.'

Hermione didn't quite know how to make Draco understand that he _should_ worry about it, because he didn't get along with anyone and not only wasn't it healthy, but he couldn't rely on partnering with her forever. She frowned, trying to compose that response, but then something occurred to her and she giggled. 'Maybe Ron didn't appreciate sharing a bed with someone he once thought was gay.'

Draco looked like he was close to getting a twitch. 'I never shared a bed with Weasley, actually,' he said.

'Oh? You were lucky enough to get two bedrooms?'

'No... we just didn't.'

Hermione snorted. 'Of course not. I forgot! Other men's man parts are _dangerous_ , so sleeping together... what was I thinking? You might wake up _liking_ each other's man parts!' She laughed, thoroughly amused by herself. She was possibly more inebriated than she'd thought. Oh, well, that was one way to punish Malfoy for being such a git, always getting off on pissing her off.

She took another sip of her drink.

Draco snorted. 'I've woken up next to you plenty of times without ever caring for your _girl_ parts, so I doubt this was ever a fear in my mind. Weasley just seems to be a more private person than you are.'

Hermione frowned and bit her lip, the alcohol fogging her mind enough that it took her a second to latch onto what he'd said. 'Yeah, he's private. Hey, _how come_ you never cared for my girl parts?'

'What?'

'I mean, don't get me wrong, my first instinct isn't exactly to jump your bones either, but most men just want a hole and a couple of squishy toys.' She made grabby motions with her hands and laughed. Ok, maybe she was pushing it now, but the sight of his face was priceless.

Draco's eyes widened slightly and he looked like she'd suddenly sprouted extra limbs. 'Granger! Don't be so crude!'

'Name!' So what if she wasn't exactly consistent on the name thing herself? Didn't mean that he shouldn't be!

He scowled. 'Fine: Hermione! Don't be so crude!'

She nodded her approval, but ignored his admonition. 'And add to that the sheer length of times we're sometimes off together... I can't really decide whether you're just _so_ put off me that putting a bag over my head wouldn't even help or whether you're a prude.'

Draco spent a few seconds gaping and then he began spluttering. 'I... just... I never _thought_ about it and, frankly, this is inappropriate. We work together, for crying out loud!' Were those pink splotches on his cheeks? 

Aww. How cute. He was a prude. She'd always suspected as much from the way he rarely liked to talk about carnal matters unless he was absolutely pissed. Hell, even when he _was_ pissed, it was hardly a common occurrence.

Hermione sniggered and took yet another swig. 'Tell that to Hendricks. When I was out with him a couple of months ago, he was very eager to get in my knickers.'

Draco's mouth compressed to a thin line and his eyes narrowed. 'Hendricks is married!'

Hermione nodded, a tad more serious now. 'I know. That's why he didn't succeed. But this is what happens to most men out on missions. The stress makes them seek the easy release.'

'Seems to me like maybe it happens to you too.'

'Hey!' Hermione snapped. 'I have self-control; I don't act inappropriately!'

'And yet you find it hard to believe that I can control myself?' he shot back.

'No,' she shook her head. 'Only slightly odd that it's always been so consistent. But, of course, I don't know what would happen if you took that well-turned young Robins out on a case.' There was a thought. It could be a you're-not-my-type-at-all kind of thing. Hermione could respect that. She didn't particularly want to be Draco's type—she'd _met_ a couple of his girlfriends. In fact, come to think of it, she was quite flattered that he didn't find her to be that type.

'"Well-turned"?' He frowned as if it were strange she should know the attributes of another witch. She wasn't blind, for crying out loud! 'I did take her out on a rather lengthy case when she first became an Auror and, again, _nothing happened_. Do you really think I need to give Potter any excuses to get rid of me?'

'You're afraid of Harry? Don't be. You've been there too long for him to easily get rid of. I'm not even into women and I might sleep with Robins if I had the chance...'

'Your mind is mightily focused on sex tonight,' he said, wearily rubbing his face. Hermione realized he hadn't drunk _nearly_ enough to appreciate her single-mindedness. Well, too bad! This would get him back for what had happened today _and_ that one time he'd drunkenly lamented in great detail about his then-girlfriend wanting him to tie her up and use paddles and other things he didn't understand on her.

She supposed he'd always been a prude.

'Well, yes!' she replied. 'I had a shot at it earlier and then you ruined it for me...' She pouted as she remembered. That shop assistant had had the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen. And nice strong hands, too!

'Then you'll be pleased to know I went back and told him I'd only been teasing you. He asked for your number, but I always get a little confused what numbers they mean, so I said you'd be down to see him soon.'

'Really?' she asked, eagerly leaning forwards.

'Really,' he confirmed. 'But you're not doing anything in our only bed. Find somewhere else.'

Hermione uttered a rather unladylike squeal. 'Thank you! I'm sure it'll help our case a lot!'

He rolled his eyes. 'Our case. Right. Always your number one priority. I wonder how Weasley feels when the two of you are out and you chat someone else up.'

'Oh, I don't do that.'

'Well, that's always something.'

'When Ron and I are out, I do him!' She allowed that statement a second to sink in, before adding, 'Anyway, if I'm supposed to go down to the village tomorrow, I'd better get some sleep.' She drained her glass, got up, and went to bed, hiding her smirk. The prude would have a hard time processing the new info, she just knew it.

* * *

After much sampling, Draco decided he liked the clear vodka best. He might like his sweets, but sweet alcohol—like that Jägermeister Hermione had been so thrilled about—just tasted like something that had gone off to him. The chocolatey liquor, Baileys, was even worse and made him almost nauseous. Straight whisky was ok, but it just made him want firewhisky instead, so vodka it was!

He really needed to get drunk after the visuals Hermione had planted in his head tonight.

Why was she suddenly so obsessed with sex, anyway? Sure, the subject had occasionally come up before, but she'd never been so... single-minded and explicit

He'd _really_ not needed to know about her and Weasley still being... fuck buddies. If they indeed were. Knowing Ron Weasley, Draco wasn't all that sure. Weasley was the sort that blushed at naughty words and was looking for steady relationships, not casual things with his ex.

Much like Draco had thought Hermione was, but those constant comments of hers were beginning to make him doubt what he thought he knew, and he very much disliked that.

Hendricks was _married_. Not to mention that he was the extremely dependable sort. He wouldn't throw his marriage to the wind just to get in Hermione's knickers; it was insane!

No. Hermione was pulling his leg. Wasn't she?

Feeling thoroughly annoyed that this should bother him so much, he finally got up and marched into their shared bedroom where he without warning turned on the light.

Hermione hadn't had enough to drink not to immediately wake up and object at the light glaring her in the eyes. 'You prick,' she groaned. 'Turn that off!'

'No,' he said, squatting by her side and ignoring her attempts to block him and the lights out. 'Why were you telling me those things?'

'What things?' Her voice was muffled by the duvet over her head.

'The things about Weasley and Hendricks. They're obviously not true.'

She lowered the duvet. 'You still on about that?' she asked, sounding incredibly annoyed for someone barely awake. 'It's true, all right? God, I never knew just how big a prude you were. Let it go.' She turned her back to him and pulled up her duvet far enough to shield from the light.

He tugged at her duvet so it slid down and her face was bathed in light again. 'You expect me to believe that _Weasley_ would be all right with nothing more than the occasional bed shuffle with the woman he once intended to marry?'

'I don't care what you believe,' she growled and reclaimed the duvet.

'Tell me you're lying!' he demanded.

'I'm lying,' she muttered.

'You're lying right now, aren't you?'

She turned back to him and gave him an exhausted but slightly more awake look. 'I have no idea why this would matter so much to you. It has nothing to do with you.'

'But it does! For years I've reassured my girlfriends when I go off with you that you aren't _that_ kind of witch.'

'And what kind would that be?' she asked, half-sitting up and narrowing her eyes at him.

'The kind that would throw professionalism to the wind for a quickie.'

'I'm not.'

'And yet you are. You apparently sleep with anything as long as it's not married.'

'No. I _never_ compromise the situation for sex. I'm sorry that you can't handle that I don't pretend to be waiting around for some mythical True Love, I really am, but either you let me sleep now, or I will hex off your bits and tell your girlfriend that you tried to force yourself on me.'

He snorted and got up. 'I'd like to keep my bits, but there'll be no need to lie to anyone this time. She didn't trust me.' He turned off the light more forcefully than strictly necessary and then went out to consume some more vodka.

* * *

Hermione was busy scribbling down notes and making plans by the time Draco woke up. It was fairly useless, but it was something to do, to keep herself occupied. This case was the most boring one she'd been on in at least five years. Harry had probably known this when sending them here, and she could only assume that it was punishment for annoying him.

'Urgh, what time is it?' Draco asked, slowly and carefully trying to sit up from the sofa where he'd apparently passed out last night after doing his best to finish off the alcohol.

'Well past noon,' she primly informed him, 'and you call _me_ a boozer!'

'I couldn't help it,' he murmured, his words muffled by his hands as he rubbed his face. 'I needed to forget that excess of information you threw at me.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Whatever. Today is Wednesday, so we should go to the antique shop tomorrow.'

'Right. Been to the grocery shop yet?' he asked, flexing his jaw and grimacing as he got up. 'I'm just going to go brush my teeth...'

'Notice how I didn't play any loud Muggle music!' she called after him. 'And it wasn't because it wasn't tempting. This place has a CD-player and heavy rock albums... You'd have _loved_ that.'

Hermione had to wait until he was done brushing his teeth, before he came back out and said, 'That _does_ show uncharacteristic restraint. Why is that?'

She turned up her nose at him. 'I'm getting along!'

He walked over and patronisingly patted her head, saying, 'Very good!'

She smacked away his hand. 'That is not getting along!'

'Wanting credit for not doing something bad isn't exactly top notch either, Granger,' he said, before walking over and carefully lying down on the sofa again. 'If you haven't been to the grocer's yet, could you perhaps get some food from town? I'm neither in the mood to cook nor to eat _your_ cooking, but anything hot and greasy will do.'

Hermione hesitated. She actually hadn't been sure whether she wanted to go, after all. It was one thing to go and get information the fun way when everything was normal, but to have Malfoy knowing about it and judging her in that way that wizards did best... it just turned her off the whole idea. Still, _not_ going would send him the message that she was ashamed of her behaviour. She wasn't. She just didn't like being called names. Who was he to judge her anyway? 

'I just need to get changed first,' she muttered and got up.

* * *

Draco closed his eyes. Ugh, his head! Getting drunk always _seemed_ like such a good idea, and then the hangover arrived. Fortunately, he wasn't very prone to vomiting, but that didn't stop the world from spinning and his stomach from heaving.

Hermione was taking her sweet time getting ready to go down to the village—either that or she was just trying to annoy Draco by being slow. That wasn't going to work today. Once she was out of the cabin, he planned on sleeping some more and then, hopefully, when he woke up, she would have food for him. Food that she hadn't actually _cooked_. Hermione's cooking was something that nobody willingly suffered through more than once or twice. She always seemed to honestly _try_ , but it just turned out awful every single time.

He heard her coming back into the room. 'What do you think?' she asked.

Draco slowly opened his eyes again and then spent some time debating what to say. 'A bit cold for that, isn't it?' was what he finally ended with. It was October last he checked, and that was generally not the time for short tartan skirts and low-cut tops. She even topped it off with pig-tails and a challenging look. He honestly didn't have anything else to add, though. At most, he wondered why she'd had that outfit packed, but he figured that was something he didn't want to know.

She seemed to realise that he wasn't going to make any comments and said, 'Ah, but I can't remember the last time I had a case in Scotland, and soon I'll be too old to wear this skirt—and don't you dare comment on that!' She scowled at him and he had a very hard time fighting a laugh. She noticed and scowled at him harder.

Giving up the fight, Draco grinned. Hermione had already had the dubious pleasure of celebrating her thirtieth birthday, and she wasn't above feeling self-conscious about it from time to time—something he wasn't above mocking her for. 'Don't worry, love,' he said slightly sarcastically, closing his eyes again. 'Nobody would ever accuse you of acting your age.' Ow, _his head_.

She ignored his comment. 'I don't know if they have curries down there, but I'll find something,' she said whilst—as far as he could tell from sound only—putting on a coat.

'That's fine,' he muttered.

'Do you need anything else?' she asked, not sounding particularly concerned, but, hey, at least she _asked_. That was an improvement. Usually she just made a lot of noise and offered him runny eggs when he'd had too much to drink. She claimed not to be obliged to pity him when it was his own bloody fault.

Of course, when _she_ had been the one to over-indulge, she sang quite a different tune.

Ugh... runny eggs...

'Those little white pills they have?' he suggested. 'Unless, of course, you'll take mercy on me and let me have a potion.' He was feeling hopeful that she just might. One potion and he could be right as rain. Damn this stupid ban on using magic—and unfortunately potions too—whilst near Muggles.

'No potions,' she said. 'I'll see what pills they have for hangovers.'

And then she was gone. Blessed peace.

He fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Hermione half-ran the last bit up to the cabin and then hurriedly and very clumsily let herself in. Holy _cauldron_ , it was cold outside. As soon as she opened the door, the warmth of the cabin hit her like a very big, very warm blanket.

A very dark one at that; not a single light was on, and dusk had long since arrived.

She quickly closed the door behind herself and turned on some lights so she could see. Ok, so _maybe_ wearing a short skirt in autumn hadn't been her best idea ever, but she'd been annoyed and, besides, it had paid off.

She shuddered, put down the bag she'd brought, and began removing her coat, convinced that she would get warmer quicker without it. The coat was big, heavy, and soaked with the cold. As she finally got rid of it, she rubbed her arms, and looked down to see if her knees were blue. No... not quite.

'That you, Hermione?' came Draco's hoarse voice from the living area. 'You finally bring me some food?'

Way to be grateful! She took the food to him, and then went into the bedroom, wrapped the duvet around herself, and padded back into the living area. Warmth would come soon, she was sure.

Draco was investigating the contents of her bag with a sceptical look, but then carefully tried a bite of some chicken, before saying, 'I'm touched that you miss me so much that you plan on joining me in sleeping in here but, really, I was planning on moving back to the bedroom tonight.'

Hermione snorted. 'I just need to thaw. The wind around here is merciless! I swear, my bones are frozen!'

'Then your shop boy mustn't have been that good.' He again poked suspiciously at the food, before venturing another bite.

'It's not poisoned,' Hermione irritably said. 'And he was fine, but nothing would have kept me warm all the way back.'

'He couldn't have given you some kind of ride?' Draco asked, poking some more at the food, making Hermione develop a tic.

'If I'd asked for that, he would have expected an invite in,' Hermione dismissively said.

Draco looked up. 'Why? Didn't you already...?'

No. 'That is none of your business!'

'Huh,' he just said, taking another bite of his food.

Hermione fought very hard not to pick something up and throw it at his head. 'I learnt that a few weeks ago some bloke came to town and tried to sell some things he called heirlooms to the antique shop. The owner of the shop called Muggle police, but they had no record of anything with that description going missing, and so he bought them. I guess that was how we got flagged. I also learnt that the forest isn't a usual party spot because they believe there are wild animals up here. There's been sightings of what may be wild dogs.'

Draco was staring at her. 'Your method _is_ effective.'

'Of course it is,' she snapped. 'I propose we find someone who knows something about tracking animals to see what animals there _actually_ are up there.'

'Maybe you can find a tracker the same way you find information...'

Hermione stood. She'd been extremely nice to his sorry, hungover arse all day, even going out of her way to get him food and medicine, and this was the thanks she got? 'This conversation is over. I'm going to bed. I'd advise you to stay out here!'

Then she did a flounce, which would have been much more dignified if she hadn't still had the duvet tightly wrapped around herself.

* * *

Oops. Draco considered the possibility that maybe he'd crossed a line with that remark. But, really, since sex seemed to be her solution to everything else, why wouldn't he have made that remark?

'What about my pills?' he called after her.

The response he got was extremely colourful and made his eyes widen.

'I, um, will choose not to do that. Thanks all the same!' he replied.

Women.

At least he was feeling better now. He'd had some sleep and some food and... now he was sort of bored. He _could_ probably sleep more, but he'd rather do so in the bed. The problem was that reclaiming the bed probably involved apologising, if not downright grovelling.

He didn't want to do that.

_Get along._

Ugh. He supposed she _had_ brought him food. And let him sleep. And got a lot of work done. All he'd done was lie about, nursing his hangover all day.

Sighing, he got up and went over to softly knock at the door.

Something smashed against it on the other side.

'Oi, don't wreck the place,' he said a little irritably.

'I'm not,' she smugly said from the other side. 'That was yours.'

Draco's mouth dropped open, and then he pushed the door open to see his picture frame lying shattered. 'Oh, very mature!' he scoffed, carefully getting the picture from the mess.

'I don't even know who that is,' Hermione said, 'or why you bring it everywhere.'

Draco looked down at his much younger smiling and winking self and the girl he was with. 'She was killed,' he simply said. 'Shortly after the war. They never knew who did it.' It had been his initial reason to become an Auror. Not that it had done an awful lot of good, but as far as motivations went, it had been a fairly strong one.

'Ah,' Hermione said, nodding. 'That explains a lot. Now, get out.'

Draco went over to his holdall, rummaged for a book, and then carefully placed the picture inside. 'You shouldn't be so careless with other people's possessions,' he coldly said. 'Especially when they're here to apologise.'

'You're not sorry. You just want to sleep in the bed.'

'Trust me, the bed is by _far_ my biggest reason to apologise. I just happen to also realise that I went too far.'

'Was she your girlfriend?' Hermione asked.

'What?'

'Was she your girlfriend?' She motioned towards his holdall.

'I don't think that's any of your business.'

'Too late. You already stuck your nose in _my_ business!'

They had a glaring contest. After a couple of minutes, Draco realised he wasn't going to win this one. 'Yes,' he bit out, without volunteering anything else.

'What happened?'

'One day she was gone.'

'Gone, disappeared, or gone, already dead?' Hermione was being very persistent.

He smiled wryly. 'As it turns out, both.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's been a decade, Granger.' Really. You'd think she knew about losing people a decade ago.

'But you still keep her picture.'

'So? Don't you remember the people _you_ lost?'

'Keeping a picture of your dead girlfriend with you sends a... signal.'

'I know. I've had enough fights over it to know how competitive witches can be with someone who's already gone.' He wasn't going to give it up for anyone, though. He'd promised not to forget her, to find her killer. He'd finally given up on finding who did it years later, realising it was consuming his life in a bad way and that he couldn't go on like that, but he could at least manage to remember her.

'Glorifying the dead and hanging onto them isn't healthy.'

'It's _just_ a picture!' His aggravation with being put on the spot like this made him raise his voice.

'Obviously not,' she calmly responded, 'or you wouldn't carry it around like a security blanket.'

'I think we've discussed this enough!' He was not comfortable talking about Asteria with anyone under normal circumstances and this was just too much. 'I'm _going_ to sleep in the bed tonight, and I'm not above throwing you out and locking the doors.'

Hermione snorted and then announced, 'I don't care!' and laid down, turning her back on him.

For a moment, Draco just gaped, but then he smacked his forehead.

_Women._


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione woke to a hand weighing down her hip. Ugh. Again! She sat up, grabbed her pillow and smacked Draco hard on the head with it three times. It was wholly unsatisfying, though, considering that the pillow was the very soft and fluffy kind.

She'd have to request heavier pillows. 

Or weigh them down with rocks.

Draco groaned. 'Stop that, you minger! Can't a fellow ever get a peaceful awakening?'

Hermione snorted. Minger, indeed! There was one very attractive male down in this very village that would beg to differ. She didn't bother to argue, though, but just went out to get her toothbrush and began brushing as she went back to the bedroom. 'The antique shop is open today,' she said.

Draco had sat up and was wearily rubbing his eyes. 'Gross, Granger! Brush in the bathroom for once, will you?' he complained at her, and then stood up and took a step, only to jump and swear and then lift his one foot, narrow his eyes, and pick out a piece of glass. A few drops of blood appeared, and he scowled at her, before jumping the rest of the way to the bathroom.

Oops! Ok, maybe she shouldn't have smashed his picture last night. No, she knew she shouldn't have. It had probably been the most immature and inconsiderate thing she'd ever done to him, and that was saying something. But she hadn't actually realised what kind of story was behind it. She really shouldn't have done it.

She went after him. He was sitting on the edge of the tub, dabbing at the small wound with a cotton ball, plaster at the ready.

'I was thinking we could mend the picture frame,' she said, going to the sink to spit.

'No, I think it's in too many pieces,' he just replied.

'No. I mean with magic.'

He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 'We aren't supposed to use magic, remember?'

She shrugged. 'It's just this once; no one will ever know.'

'To ease your guilty conscience, eh, Granger? Nah, forget it.'

'I didn't mean to—'

'Of course you meant to.' He stood up, testing to see if the plaster stayed, and then went over and got his toothbrush. 'Maybe you should learn to control your temper.'

Hermione scowled. He was right, damn him, but it was hardly like he was some paragon of good behaviour himself! 'I'll get you a new one at the antique shop,' she just said, finishing up and leaving the bathroom.

He merely shrugged again.

Sometimes, he was really, really annoying.

* * *

The visit to the antique shop was a lesson in futility, as the shop owner could tell them little more than that a perfectly average—in _every_ aspect—stranger had come by and offered him the artifacts. Most of the things had already been sold, but Draco and Hermione were welcome to buy back what was left at a vastly exaggerated sum—unless, of course, they could prove they were law enforcement.

Draco really doubted the shop owner would think magical law enforcement counted. And with one look at each other, he and Hermione decided that the artifacts were too low-magic for them to risk putting a spell on the bloke in the middle of the day. If Potter wanted to retrieve the items, he would have to pull some strings with Muggle law enforcement.

'Sounds like petty thievery,' Draco said as they were leaving the shop. 'But why bother selling to Muggles? They'd fetch a better price at Borgin and Burkes.'

'Maybe they thought they wouldn't get caught here.'

'They probably won't be. It's too insignificant to waste a lot of resources on. Am I the only one feeling like Potter effectively gave us a time-out with this one?'

'I think he did,' Hermione agreed. 'It's the slowest case we've had in years. Much more suited for a first-timer.'

'Do you still want to find some kind of wild animal tracker, or do you want to angrily owl Potter? I'm all for the latter.'

Hermione stretched her arms over her head in a lazy motion, as they were casually making their way through town. 'Well, the way I see it... If Harry is doing this on purpose, he deserves to give us this holiday with full pay, and we should stick around like we would with any other case.'

'This is hardly my idea of a holiday, Hermione.'

Hermione scrunched up her face. 'Ok, so maybe it's a little boring and maybe we're driving each other crazy, but it's still time spent doing nothing.'

'I didn't realise what a slacker you were.'

'Says you, who spent all day sleeping yesterday!'

Draco grinned because he couldn't help it. 'It was one day. _One_ day. And it meant you got to go off and do whatever with your loverboy. Speaking of...' He stopped her with a hand on her arm. 'We need new groceries. Real groceries, this time. The take-out in this place is awful, and I don't think I can stomach any more of that old cereal. Especially considering that we don't even have any milk for it.'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'We do eat like slackers, don't we?'

'We do. And I'm hungry.'

'All right. I'm just going to go ahead—could you remember to get me some pop?'

'Wait, you're not coming with me to the shop?'

'Hell, no,' she said, shaking her head. When he looked at her quizzically, she rolled her eyes and added, 'Oh, please. Like you never wanted to avoid someone after a fling.' She then turned her back on him and waved over her shoulder.

Draco frowned. She really was behaving much differently than he was used to. If she was interested in the shop-bloke, shouldn't she be... _interested_?

Shaking his head, he went into the shop and began getting everything he needed for a decent evening meal. When he made it to the section with pop, he deliberately picked a brand he knew Hermione hated. Then he hesitated and, sighing, added one she liked. He would hide that one until after she'd had her fit, though.

It was that same handsome young Muggle man—Draco realised that Hermione had never told him his name—working again today. He didn't seem too thrilled at seeing Draco, though, and was even scowling in his general direction.

As Draco prepared to pay for the food, the Muggle asked, 'So, where is she?'

'You mean Hermione?' Draco asked, thinking that was a very good question indeed.

'Yeah,' the Muggle said, irritably pushing the things past some kind of device that went bleep with each item. That thing apparently told him how much it would all cost. Draco had seen these things before at almost every Muggle shop he visited. Muggles were an odd breed—weren't they taught how to count? 'She promised to ring me today before work, or at least come by, but she never intended to, did she?'

Draco didn't know what to say, so he paid first, and then said, 'Look, I don't know what happened between you two...'

'Nothing!' the Muggle exclaimed. 'She came by, she was very talkative, and we had a brilliant snog, but then she said you were ill and she had to go. You look fine to me! Bloody tease.'

Draco lifted an eyebrow. 'You mean to say you _didn't_...?'

'I think I would have noticed if we had,' the Muggle muttered. 'And she was really dressed for it too. What happened?'

'I... don't know,' Draco carefully said. 'Maybe something put her off, I really don't know.'

'Think I was too eager?' the Muggle asked, suddenly looking uncertain. 'We don't get many birds fit like her around here.'

Draco had to fight down the urge to wrinkle his nose. She was _Hermione Granger_ and per definition not a "fit bird". 'I'll ask her to get in touch with you,' he politely said, turning around.

'Hey!' the Muggle said to Draco's back and then as Draco slowly turned back, 'Birds like her don't change, you know.'

Draco blinked. 'What?'

'You must really like her to allow her to do what she wants like that. I agree that they're fun to tumble with, but they don't settle down. Before you know it, they just leave you alone with a kid that might not even be yours and you're stuck working a job you hate for the rest of your life.'

Draco _definitely_ thought the Muggle might just have overshared his own life story there. 

'I don't think Hermione has ever done that,' he carefully said, 'and I doubt she's about to start now. I'll tell her you were asking after her.'

* * *

Hermione was investigating the music options, trying to figure out how this particular CD-player worked. She'd never admit it to Draco, but even though she was a Muggle-born and certainly better at socialising with Muggles than he was, she didn't use their technology that often and it usually took her a few tries to get something to work. This CD-player wasn't any different. 

She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out which button was for opening it. Oh, it had to be that one! She pushed it. Yes. And the disc went there, silver side down... now to get it to play. She pushed the button with the arrow, and what sounded mostly like a foghorn began blaring at an ungodly volume. Eep! Frantically, she began fiddling for the volume control, finally finding it in the shape of a round button that could be twisted. There! But good grief, this music was bad. She pursed her lips and frowned, trying to figure out how to skip to the next song.

'What is this noise?' Draco's voice complained behind her, and she jumped.

'Don't sneak up on me like that!' she growled.

'Sneak? In _that_ noise, I could have brought my very own band without anyone hearing me.'

'Yes, well—' she pushed the button she _thought_ would skip ahead '—I needed to hear something that wasn't your voice.'

Fortunately, she'd guessed right once again, and it skipped ahead to a more bearable song. Phew.

'Hm,' was all Draco said. How uncharacteristic of him!

'Did you get my pop?' she asked. It was funny how, at thirty, she still felt slightly rebellious whenever she had some of the sweet, fizzy drink. She supposed she'd always be the dentists' daughter, no matter how old she got.

He pulled out a bottle of a brand she hated. Her face fell. 'You did that on purpose,' she miserably said.

'Maybe you could ring up your Muggle loverboy and have him bring you something?' he asked.

She made a face. 'You really are fixated on that.'

'Ah, no. When I went into the shop, I had to hear him lament about how you left him high and dry and promised to contact him this morning but didn't. You owe it to _my head_ to sort that out before I have to go back in there.' He took the groceries to the kitchen area.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat and was thankful that Draco didn't notice. Damn it, she hadn't thought the bloke would so willingly share everything with Draco. That was embarrassing. 'I can't ring him up,' she called after him, 'I have no phone.'

'Sure you do,' he called back. 'You have that little mobile one in your bag. The one you _usually_ use on cases involving Muggles.'

She followed him into the kitchen. 'I didn't think you'd know what that was. Did you get anything that doesn't need cooking?'

'I may be a pure-blood wizard who never spent much time among Muggles, but I'm not entirely stupid. I've seen you use it several times. And, no, I didn't, but I'll cook enough for you too, as long as you talk to that Muggle.'

'I don't want to talk to him!' Hermione said, scowling. 'I know men. Either he'll just pout and vent his wounded ego at me, or he'll try to guilt me into sleeping with him no matter if I want to or not.'

'Didn't think you were a coward. And, besides, I thought you _did_ want to. What was all the fuss about if you didn't?'

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, as he was putting things—including her _favourite_ pop—away. The git really had gotten the bad brand on purpose! 'I am _not_ a coward just for thinking it's not worth the trouble, and I just changed my mind after talking to him! He's too needy by half. Why do you care, anyway? I got the information I promised.'

Draco was looking more annoyed than he had any right to be. 'Honestly, Granger,' he said. 'I preferred it when I didn't know what a bitch you were. To other people, I mean.'

Hermione gaped. 'Fine,' she then said. 'But dinner had _better_ be good.' She turned around and stalked into the bedroom to find her mobile.

Sometimes she wasn't sure why she even tried to get along.

* * *

Draco knew that Hermione didn't appreciate being bullied to confront some random bloke she'd stood up. She certainly scowled and ignored him after she came back from having the conversation, even though she had no problem eating his food.

He honestly didn't even know why it bothered him; it just did. It really made him uncomfortable to have someone he'd known for the better part of the last two decades—who he relied on to keep him _alive_ much of the time—act so contrary to what he'd expect from her. Couldn't she at least pretend to be the person he'd thought he'd known?

Draco was a creature of habit. The unpredictability of his job was really the only unpredictability he wanted in his life. He would very much like for the rest to stay exactly the same as it had always been. At least, unless he actively tried to change it. Unplanned changes were always bad.

After dinner, Hermione announced she was going for a walk, and told him to not wait up. Draco found the timing peculiar, but couldn't decide whether she was going off to meet her Muggle not-so-loverboy again, or whether she just didn't want to help with the washing up.

Maybe it was a little bit of both.

But if she was going off to meet the Muggle, then she didn't have any reason to be mad at Draco. Unless, of course, she was employing the annoying female habit of being mad "on principle". Whatever. He'd do the washing up, but only because she actually _had_ replaced his picture frame today, and with a nicer one at that.

After that, he spent some time trying to figure out how to stop the infernal noise that some Muggles apparently called music. Hermione had obviously set it to repeat over and over and over again. He ended up shutting it off the same way he shut all Muggle electronics off—he found the electrical flex and yanked it from its socket.

Blessed peace.

Debating what to do, he ended up opting for a bath since he would _for once_ be able to take his time without a certain highly annoying witch pounding on the door. Or even better: a long shower. Showers were a thing that largely had seemed to elude the wizarding world, and the one and only thing that Draco actually liked from the Muggle world and missed when he went back. He should really look into getting one installed. It would hardly be a problem, considering that no electricity would be needed. He just needed to find some non-Muggles to set it up.

Maybe some squib somewhere worked as a... whatever a person like that was called. Yes. He had to find someone like that. Maybe he could even get Hermione to help him figure out how, in the name of _getting along_.

He walked to the bathroom whilst pulling off his jumper and unceremoniously dropping it to the floor, before unfastening his trousers. He didn't mind wearing trousers from time to time, but he very much disliked almost all the Muggle makes he'd had the patience to seek out.

Buying Muggle clothes in wizarding shops was never a smart thing. Those people always got the oddest, most outrageous garments they could find, never anything useful. Having the Ministry acquire clothes for him was little better. They'd get him cheap, ill-fitting brands that still left something to be desired when it came to his tastes and comfort. Not to mention how they'd never find anything that actually matched in any way that could be called even halfway decent. Finally, he'd procured a list of Muggle clothes shops and gone out himself, but walking around Muggle London was more than a little unsettling to him, so he hadn't made it very far before he'd just gone into the nearest shop and bought everything he'd spotted within the first two minutes that was tolerable to him.

Hermione had laughed at him when she'd heard his horror tale. 

Come to think of it, though, that year she'd actually given him a pile of Muggle clothes for his birthday. Good clothes, too. Matching, even! In fact, he believed this might be one of the jumpers. He didn't wear Muggle clothes often enough for any wear to really show, so the jumper was still good. He supposed she wasn't always a shrew. It had been very good of her, considering his distress and the fact that they didn't usually exchange presents.

He got rid of the last of his clothes, just leaving everything on the bathroom floor, and made sure the water was warm enough before stepping in the shower. This place had a very cheap-looking shower curtain. He disliked shower curtains. They always made him feel slightly claustrophobic. He preferred those translucent screens. He supposed that if he just kept the shower at an angle so it wouldn't make too much of a mess, and he mopped up afterwards, it wouldn't be too much of a problem not to close the curtain.

Placing his hands against the cool tile, he leant forward, letting the water beat onto his neck and back, loosening the worst of his knots. He was so tense. He always was whenever he was out on a case, but this case was so eventless that he kept waiting for something big to happen. Something horrible. He knew it wouldn't, that there was no greater conspiracy than Potter being an absolute git and treating him and Hermione like kids on a time-out, but calm cases were the worst. It was when you least expected it that disaster struck. When you thought the danger had passed and you allowed yourself to relax and be happy, _that_ was when you lost something important.

But what would he lose? His life? That was always a risk. He'd made his peace with that. Whenever he was seeing someone, he tried to make sure that she could make her peace with it as well. He preferred to live, but his death was always a very real possibility. It was other people's deaths he couldn't handle.

He deliberately tried to relax, rolling his shoulders back and hearing cracking sounds. If he'd been at this cabin with any other witch—any other _person_ —than Hermione Granger, he might have asked them to help rub out the tension because it gave him headaches. However, Hermione's mocking also gave him a headache, and he preferred the headache coming from the knots. Besides, she'd be more likely to make it worse, anyway. She was many things, but gentle was not one of them. She would probably just pinch and poke until he begged her to stop.

Sighing, he straightened and reached for the soap. Even now, she was giving him a headache. He needed to think of something else, but what? Often, he would think about the witch waiting for him at home, but this time there was no witch. Just another ex, lumped into the ever-growing group of exes he should never have become involved with in the first place. Why bother remembering? It only made it harder to move on.

His latest ex had given him an ultimatum: Either he refuse to go on this case with Hermione, or he wouldn't have anyone to come home to.

It had never even occurred to Draco to refuse to go. Telling her that he'd most likely lose his job if he did as she asked hadn't yielded any understanding. He didn't need this job, she'd said. He had the money.

She'd only been half right. He did have the money, but there were other reasons to work than the salary.

Truthfully, he didn't feel any great sadness over walking out on a witch who refused to understand that his needs didn't have to make sense to _her_ to be valid. There had been so many things she hadn't understood about him. She hadn't believed that he was capable of going away for weeks—even months—and be in this close proximity with another witch without being unfaithful. He'd never been unfaithful. Not once. Not to her, not to anyone. Not even if the witch preferred to wait a while before becoming physical, which had been the case this time. And, come to think of it, the time before that. He wasn't some animal who couldn't go without rutting. He could easily go without. Even _more_ easily if he was stuck in a small cabin with Hermione Granger. She really killed his libido.

But Hermione wasn't here now to suppress his libido. Draco leant against the tiles again. When was the last time he'd had any sexual release? Any kind at all? His brow knitted as he thought. He hadn't really considered it for a while, but... ugh, he must really be getting old if he could go _this_ long without even wanking.

Maybe it would help him relax a bit.

He pushed all thoughts from his mind, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the mood wash over him. It shouldn't take long after this amount of time, anyway. Hell, just the thought of the release he would have had his cock responding, pulsing, hardening.

No, not long at all.

Without even removing his hands from the tiles yet, Draco conjured up a fantasy of hands touching him everywhere. Many hands. Different hands. Small hands, long-fingered hands, soft hands, calloused hands... demanding hands. He liked the feel of slightly calloused hands, didn't like to fuck dainty little roses—at least unless they managed to surprise him. They almost never did. His parents had wanted him to marry a fragile little flower of a witch. He hadn't exactly rebelled, but he hadn't felt any attraction to her either. Then he'd met Asteria, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, who loved to ride brooms and climb trees and dance under the stars. Her skin had a constant tan from the sun, her hair was rarely tidy, and her hands had a slightly rough quality to them. Yet, his parents hadn't minded for long. How could they? She'd been lovely.

He concentrated on the feel of one pair of hands, banishing all the others. Yes, this was exactly what he was in the mood for. He willed the owner to kneel before him. _Suck_. Ugh, that had been even longer than the sex. Not every witch liked doing it, and Draco had to respect their boundaries in the bedroom. He had to match whatever they wanted and pretend not to want anything else, or they would never trust him. There were too many variables, too many reasons not to trust him if he was completely honest with them. But this was his fantasy and the person with the slightly calloused hands didn't mind at all. They were eager to do it. Warm, full, soft lips closed around the head of his cock, making him positively shake with want. _Oh, yes, please_. Then a tongue leisurely stroked the tip whilst a hand closed around his shaft, making him feel like he'd been taken in deeper.

Draco groaned, dimly realising that at some point he'd given in and grabbed himself and was now painfully slowly mimicking the movements of his fantasy. He'd always preferred to start slow. To wait. To let the sensations build. It was quickly becoming hard to do so, however, as big eyes—what color? Blue! Yes, these were a clear blue—looked up at him, looked him straight in the eyes, whilst his cock was being worshipped by a clever hand, a hot mouth, and a tongue that knew all the exact right places to tease.

He wanted to come, but it was too soon. He had to prolong it. The mouth went away, and the other hand reached down and carefully grabbed his bollocks, lifting them a bit as if weighing them. Then the mouth returned, running down along his shaft, and flicking its tongue out at the root, before moving back up, and taking him in deep, so deep.

There was nothing to do, he had to come _now_. Imagining the greedy, lustful look in those blue eyes, Draco moved his hand harder and faster, feeling the climax build and then it was there—

He heard a gasp, and his eyes flew wide in shock to see that Hermione had for some reason walked in on him, but it was too late. His eyes closed again on a groan, as he felt the orgasm ripping through him. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Once he finally opened his eyes again, Hermione was thankfully gone, but unfortunately, the humiliation stayed.

* * *

 _Note to self: Never assume. Never. Assume. NEVER ASSUME!_

Hermione was pacing the living area. She'd assumed. Oops. She'd assumed Draco was in bed either sleeping or reading, and she'd been so far gone in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard the water, she hadn't... thought. She would never have had the imagination to consider the fact that he might be in there, _tossing off_.

It wasn't actually the first time she'd walked in on him bathing. When you lived together for any period of time, as they had done on several occasions, things happened. This was, however, first time she'd walked in on _that_ and... such perfect timing too!

She couldn't stop a nervous kind of giggle. It was sort of funny. Only not, because Draco was a _prude_ and would be horrified and probably angry too. But still, funny! That was one side of him she'd never thought she'd see. Well, ok, she'd never had any opinion on whether she was going to... _see_... that much of him—and obviously anything could happen when you were out and about—but she'd certainly never thought she'd see him _do that_.

Oh, dear.

The image of Draco's horror as he saw her, followed by the pained bliss of his orgasm was really difficult to forget. He was going to be impossible to live with now. Too bad. After that self-loving of his, he might actually have been pleasant to be around with for a while. She had another nervous giggle-fit. Ohh, dear. She covered her face with her hands. Her cheeks were extremely hot.

He came out of the bathroom—thankfully completely dressed, and glowered at her.

Yep, this would go over well. 'Oh, come on!' she burst out. 'It's not like I didn't suspect you were human enough to occasionally do that!'

'That may very well be,' he bit off. 'But I can assure you that I never intended for you to watch.' His cheeks pinkened again, and it seemed like he couldn't even look at her. In fact, he made to go to the bedroom.

She couldn't keep another nervous giggle from escaping, and he froze in place, his entire body going rigid. 'Don't be like that,' she couldn't help saying. 'You have to admit it's a _little_ funny.'

He slowly turned back. 'Shut. Up.' There was nothing funny about the expression on his face or in his voice. 'Some of us don't whore ourselves out every chance we get and have to take care of things when we _think_ we're alone. You invaded my privacy. I see nothing funny about that.' He turned and went into the bedroom, where she very distinctly heard the key turn.

Oh, great. She miserably eyed the sofa. No way she wanted to sleep there. She went over to the door and knocked. No answer.

'I'm sorry, ok?' she tried telling the door. No answer. 'It wasn't like I did it on purpose! I didn't expect you to be there.' She paused. She was still being ignored. 'Come on...' she sighed. 'I promise not to tease you about it. And I won't put it in my report or tell Harry or Ron or any—'

The door flew open, almost before she registered the sound of the key being turned again. 'If you make fun of me behind my back, you'd better _pray_ that you never get signed onto another dangerous case with me, because I _will_ leave you to die,' he growled.

She crossed her arms over her chest. 'No, you won't.'

'Try me.' He began violently closing the door again, but she quickly stuck her foot in, yelping and feeling her eyes water from sheer _pain_ when it got crushed from the force of the door slamming on it, but still not removing it. Maybe next time she used her foot as a door stopper, she should put on a shoe first.

'Damn it, Granger!' he yelled, abruptly letting go of the door and jumping back. 'Are you a complete idiot?'

She shot him an annoyed look, pushed the door open and limped over to the bed, where she sat down, carefully removing her sock and testing the extent of the injury. There was pain, definitely. Ow! Tosser!

'No one in their right mind would do that!' he continued his tirade. 'Can't you ever just let anything _go_?'

'Why are _you_ yelling?' she yelled back at him. 'You're not the one with an injury!'

'Only to my pride,' he muttered.

'Oh, come off it,' she scoffed. 'You wanked in the shower. Big deal. Who doesn't? But _normal_ people don't throw a complete fit just because they're being teased a little!'

'Yeah? I seem to recall someone threw a fit just because she was teased in front of someone she wanted to bonk!'

'You were ruining my chances! I just embarrassed you a bit when no one else was even there. Did you ever think that I was embarrassed too, and that's why I had to make fun of it?'

'I didn't ruin a thing! That Muggle was so hard up for any kind of action that he didn't care. And yes, I did notice. I had no idea you even could blush! But that does not change the fact that this wasn't about _you_ and _you_ didn't just get humiliated and possibly cock-blocked forever whenever your partner is within as much as a ten mile radius.'

'You know what?' she said, slowly getting back on her feet, biting her lip when leaning on the injured foot caused pain to shoot up her leg. Doggedly she remained standing without taking any of her weight off the leg. 'You can blame me for many things,' she said, once the pain became familiar enough to be bearable. 'But it will _never_ be my fault that you're nothing but some impotent prude!'

Gathering all of her willpower, she stalked out of the bedroom and didn't allow herself as much as the weakest whimper until she'd heard the door slam again.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was too irritable to fall asleep in a timely fashion, so the next morning—when he awoke non-violently for once—he was little better. Annoyed, he got up, but before he made it to the bathroom, he saw her, still fast asleep on the sofa, her injured foot propped up on a couple of cushions. He went closer and squatted, inspecting the foot. He wasn't an expert in the differences between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns, but he would _assume_ that it wasn't supposed to be swollen and various shades of blue and purple.

Sticking it in the door had been an idiotic move on her part.

He poked it. Not very hard, but judging by the way she jerked, it was hard enough.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she shot him a sleepy and confused look. 'Malfoy? What—?'

'You need a Healer,' he said. 'I'll pack your bag for you, but I am _not_ taking responsibility for your injury.'

'I don't need a Healer,' she muttered, struggling to sit and wincing as she managed to jar her foot.

'Right. Of course you don't. Care to go for a run?' The sarcasm was perhaps a bit much, but he wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

'Give me my wand,' she said, stretching out her hand. Then, when he only stared at her, she motioned impatiently, and repeated, 'My wand, damn you, Malfoy!'

'Oh, no,' he said, shaking his head. 'Remember that time you attempted to heal me?'

'I've practised since then!' she snapped. 'Besides, I'm sure you'll just love it if I hurt myself, so what's it to you?'

He shook his head again. 'You need protection from yourself.'

'My. Wand!' she bit out.

He considered still refusing, but then decided that if she was going to hurt herself, he might as well be here to enjoy it. So he went and got it for her. 

At first, she looked very focused, sweat beading on her forehead, and then she hesitantly muttered something, flicking her wand. She winced, but nothing much seemed to happen. Then she cast another spell a little more forcefully.

He waited, and so did she, but once more nothing seemed to happen. She frowned and was about to attempt a third spell, when suddenly, without warning, she threw herself back, screaming and thrashing and banging her head on the armrest. Draco hurried to secure her, to hold her down so she couldn't harm herself, but he wasn't sure what she'd done or how to stop it. 

She fought him and thrashed even harder, tears now streaking down her cheeks. He grabbed better hold of her, attempting to soothe her, trying to get her to tell him what was wrong, but he got absolutely no response from her. How ironic. She'd been cursed at least a dozen times over whilst he'd been out with her, but the thing to get her was her own attempt at healing. Damn her. He'd _told_ her not to do it, but did she ever listen to him?

There was a sickening, slow crack sounding down from the foot, making her scream and struggle harder, managing to get her one arm free from his hold to claw at his face. He growled, but just grabbed the arm again, holding her harder this time. She would bruise, but there wasn't really anything to be done about it. He wasn't going to let her scratch his eyes out just because she was too proud to go see a Healer.

Finally she quieted down, sobbing.

The sobbing made him uneasy. If there was something he knew, it was that Hermione Granger didn't cry lightly. That sensitivity had been burned out of her years ago.

'What did you do?' he quietly asked. 'How intense is the pain? I can carry you outside and Apparate you to St Mungo's right away if you need it.'

She laughed. It was still broken up by sobs, but she laughed. He thought for sure she'd lost her mind. 'I d-don't need to go at all,' she finally said. 'I f-fixed it. See?' She stretched up her still purple foot, and then frowned. 'Well, ok, n-not much to see yet, and it hurts like hell, but I can tell it's fixed.' She sniffled.

Reasonably sure she was done trying to give herself a concussion, Draco let her go. 'Right. Why don't I go pack our bags, and then we can return to the debate of whether you fixed anything or not?'

She swatted his arm not-so-affectionately. 'It's fine, you prat,' she snapped, sounding more like herself. 'I just found out why they prefer to knock you out with potions at St Mungo's. That _hurt_!' She wiped at her wet cheeks.

'Of course it hurt, you nit!' he retorted. 'You probably broke something by pulling that stupid stunt last night.'

' _You_ were the one slamming the door on it!' she acidly reminded him.

'How was I supposed to know you'd be acting like a bloody idiot?'

Their voices were getting louder and louder with each accusation, but in a way it was calming in its normalcy. Maybe she really was all right.

' _None_ of this would have happened if you hadn't been so angry over something so silly!' she shot back.

'And I wouldn't have been angry if you hadn't walked in on me!'

'I didn't mean to!'

' _I know!_ '

She opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it again and frowned. 'Huh. Then, why are we fighting?'

He sighed. 'Why couldn't you just leave me in peace for one night?'

She shrugged a little sheepishly. 'I didn't want to sleep on the sofa.'

* * *

'You're _really_ irritating me, you know that?' Draco asked, scowling.

Hermione couldn't help her grin. It had been several hours since her attempt at mending her bones, and with the use of nothing but some Muggle over-the-counter pain pills, she was already feeling much better, and she could walk, although she suspected she'd limp for a bit.

She was still deeply embarrassed about her brief show of weakness, but she figured that maybe now they were even.

'I told you I fixed it,' she smugly said.

'Right.' He looked put out that she had indeed fixed it. 'But you had to use magic to do it.'

'We can use magic in emergencies! That was an emergency!'

'An emergency that could have been taken care of at St Mungo's,' he snapped at her.

'Oh, come off it!' she snapped back. 'I took care of it just fine.'

'Just fine? _Just fine?_ You nearly brained yourself and you would have if I hadn't been there. Besides, I don't even know what kind of pain it takes for your tear ducts to work! I swear, sometimes I don't even think you're human.'

'But you _were_ there, and I knew you were when I cast the spell! And, yes, it hurt. A lot. But it worked! And stop being so annoyingly chauvinistic! Just because I'm not repressing my sexuality or blubbering in front of you every chance I get doesn't make me any less of a woman, much less person!' 

Hermione was, truth be told, more than a little sore about all the times he'd referred to her "whoring" in the past few days. It was people like him that were the reason that it was difficult for an honest, hard-working witch to get ahead in her career without making sacrifices that _no one_ would ever ask of a wizard! It was all so unfair, and she wanted to punch Draco in the face for not getting it.

'There's a difference between "not repressing" and "flaunting",' Draco said, as if his semantics made it any better.

'Yeah?' Hermione sneered. 'I obviously didn't flaunt it _enough_ , since it's apparently such a huge surprise to you that I'm not a virgin!'

'Again, there's a difference between "not a virgin" and "banging every bloke showing even the slightest interest",' he pointed out.

She threw up her hands. 'God, Malfoy! Stop behaving like you're my big brother! I kept my hands off that Muggle to please you, isn't that enough?'

He opened his mouth as to reply and then frowned. 'To please _me_?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Obviously you were bothered, so I only went far enough to get what we needed.' Never mind that there had been other factors as well.

'Since when do you care what I think?'

Deciding that standing through this conversation would be too much strain on her foot, Hermione hobbled over to the sofa and sat down, propping up her leg and scowling. 'I've always made concessions when it really seemed to matter to the partnership, you stupid git. As have you. I know you take great pains to avoid putting me on a broom.'

'You're crap at flying,' he muttered.

She shot him an exasperated look. She was more than crap at flying a broom. She hated it. The very thought of flying was enough to almost make her panic. She would, however, do it if it were required of her, and she'd never done anything to avoid it while on a case. Still, it hadn't taken long before Draco had become uncharacteristically inventive when it came to avoiding flying. And she knew without a doubt that he himself _loved_ riding his broom.

'But that's directly related to the cases,' he defensively said. 'I can't trust that you'll make it away safely when you go white in the face just from thinking about mounting a broom, and if I take you onto my broom, you hold on so tightly that I can barely steer!'

Excuses, excuses. Hermione sighed. 'Yes, well, this had a direct impact as well. Apparently, your Big Brother Complex makes it so you can't be around me if you suspect I'm having any carnal fun, and you can't be around the people you suspect I have it with. This effectively sabotages the case.'

'What case?' he scoffed.

She shrugged. 'It doesn't matter if it's a dull case; it still colours your outlook on it and it's counter-productive.'

He stared at her for a few seconds and then sunk down in an armchair, looking horrified. Oh, so it took interfering with _work_ for him to get it, did it? 'I didn't mean to interfere in your personal life,' he then muttered.

Hermione suppressed another eye-roll. 'It was hardly that important to me, but I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me a whore.'

He scowled at her. 'I never called you a whore. I said you were whoring.'

'Same difference!'

'Completely different! One is contempt for the act, the other is contempt for the person.' He honestly seemed to believe that made a difference.

'Semantics, Malfoy. If you have contempt for an act that I seek out and enjoy, then by definition, you have contempt for me.'

He stubbornly shook his head. 'No! By definition, I wish you'd stop doing it!'

'Why? What's it to you?'

He sneered, but she was largely unimpressed. She fought with him too often to be cowed by his expressions. 'It's self-destructive behaviour, Granger. How am I supposed to trust someone with my life when they seek to self-destruct?' he asked, apparently trying for reason.

Too bad it wasn't Earth reason. 

Hermione gaped for several seconds before she remembered to speak. 'Self-destructive? Where do you get _that_?'

Draco scoffed again. 'Random sex with strangers? Really? That's not healthy behaviour. That's asking for bad things to happen to you.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Of all the close-minded... 'For your information, it's nothing of the kind. It's just exactly what it looks like: Sex. Looking for _good_ things to happen to me. Just because I have no desire to be tied down to some wizard—or Muggle—doesn't mean that I don't have physical wants that it's perfectly harmless for me to satisfy.'

'But I don't believe you,' he quietly said.

'You don't believe I want to get laid? Well, _believe it!_ ' She really wanted to get her hands on him, so she could strangle him. Instead she had to settle for slamming her fist against the cushion next to her. Thoroughly unsatisfying.

He shook his head. 'No. I don't believe you when you say you don't want to be with anyone. I _knew_ you when you were with Weasley. You weren't chafing at the bit, looking to get out. You were as happy as any witch engaged to the man she wanted to marry—at least until something or other went wrong and it fell apart. Whatever it was scarred you, and now you don't want to risk it again. Guess what, Granger? You're not getting any younger. Your skin is not perfectly smooth any more. Soon you'll be old and completely alone. All for nothing. So get over it.'

'Do _not_ project your own issues onto me!' she hissed, annoyed that he'd bring up the tiny wrinkles she preferred to ignore. How had someone as clueless as him noticed them? 'I _did_ want to marry Ron, yes. And if we could have made it work, we would have. But just because I wanted him does not mean that I need someone, anyone, to fill some arbitrary void that you decided I must have, just because you do. I don't. I love my life.'

'So what do you do when one of your blokes falls for you?'

She blinked. What? 'They don't.' Why would they do such a thing? Muggles and wizards alike were usually happy to take the no-strings sex and run with it. Even the ones she'd had longer arrangements with had never expressed a desire for more. Was it really that hard for him to believe that not everyone wanted the same things in life?

He made a dismissive gesture. 'Indulge me.'

She shrugged, not giving it much thought. 'I'd break it off. It's not fair to lead them on.' It was an entirely hypothetical situation. It had never happened and would never happen. She was always very clear about what could and could not happen.

'And if you fall for them?'

She couldn't keep back a surprised little laugh. 'I don't.'

His expression didn't change. 'Indulge me.'

'No, I can't indulge you,' she said, shaking her head. 'I decided not to, and I don't. I never have and never will fall in love with anyone but Ron.' Love wasn't this great uncontrollable force that people liked to pretend it was, after all. It was easy to tell when you might be becoming too fond of someone and then break it off. Not that she didn't want love in her life, she very much did, but she preferred to keep that love restricted to friends and family only. She didn't lead the kind of life where it would be easy to manage a romantic partner on the side, and she simply didn't care enough to even try to make that effort.

Draco's eyes widened. 'You're still in love with Weasley?'

Hermione sighed from annoyance. Draco had a rare talent for missing the point. 'Don't be absurd,' she growled. 'I keep telling you, I just don't want those things.'

Draco shook his head. 'Sorry, Granger. I can't believe that.'

Hermione fell back against the back of the sofa, groaning. Of course he couldn't believe her. That would be too easy, wouldn't it? Of course it was completely impossible for him to understand that someone might have different personal goals in life than him.

* * *

Draco quietly watched Hermione, as she was showing every sign of irritation because he wouldn't just take her word for it. How could he? They had their differences, but he knew she wasn't cold. He couldn't believe that she was telling him the truth. Although, he could possibly believe that she _thought_ she was. Hmm. Maybe that was it.

'Let's not fight,' he said as soothingly as he could. 'I'm tired of fighting.' Also, she wasn't about to see sense any time soon.

'Then get your nose out of my business,' she grumbled.

'Deal,' he said, honestly just wanting a rest. 'Is your foot bothering you much?'

She reached down and massaged it. 'Nah. I mean, it's really, really sore from everything it's been through, but I can feel that it's fine now.'

'You should have tried to numb it first.'

'Yes, well, maybe next time!'

The way she scowled at him reminded him that maybe he shouldn't tell her what she _should_ have done while she was still suffering from the bad call she'd made. 'Do you need more pills?' he asked, trying to smooth things over once again, almost gagging on all the niceties. He looked forward to being able to annoy her again.

'No, I think the pills did all they could do,' she said with a sigh.

'We do have another medicine...' he slowly said.

'The potions are for bigger emergencies than this.'

He shook his head. Anything that had stoic, stubborn Hermione Granger sobbing out of control was emergency enough for him, but he didn't press that point. 'I meant this,' he said, getting up and walking over to a nearby cabinet, opening it, revealing the bottles of liquor he hadn't polished off.

Hermione eyed the Jägermeister. 'I thought you'd drunk that.'

Draco snorted. 'There are limits to even my constitution, as you could see. But alcohol is a well-known numbing agent, isn't it?' He brought her the bottle and a glass, and she eagerly accepted it. He shook his head. Even if she didn't really drink that much of it, her enthusiasm did scream "boozer".

'Oh, Malfoy,' she sighed. 'If you weren't such a clueless git, I'd swear my undying devotion to you.'

He raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting as he went back to his chair. Given their recent conversation, he wasn't sure her undying devotion was worth a whole lot anyway.

Hermione took a big gulp and then sighed with contentment. 'Mmm... this is almost enough to make me forgive you.'

'I'm glad,' he drily replied. He did actually feel a little bad about the foot, but he'd be damned if he told her that. She shouldn't have stuck it in the door! Wasn't she supposed to be smarter than that?

'As penance you have to answer my drunken, embarrassing questions,' she announced, pouring herself another glass.

'No, I really don't,' he replied.

She pouted in a typical female attempt to manipulate him. 'If you don't, I'll tell Harry what you did to my foot.'

Draco shrugged. 'Fine. Then I'll tell Potter about one of the numerous injuries you've given me over the years, and he will know that we still aren't getting along and fire us both.'

'Getting to know each other better might be key in getting along,' she pointed out. 'It might promote a better understanding.'

'Or it might give you the ammunition to humiliate me often and mercilessly. Easy on that, Granger, or you'll be sick.'

Hermione quickly emptied her glass and refilled it, ignoring his admonition to slow down. Damn know-it-all probably thought she was above getting sick when he knew better, and he was the one that either had to clean it up or live with the stench until she was better. 

'What if I trade you some of my own embarrassing secrets?' she asked. 'After a few more of these, of course.'

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. 'How embarrassing?'

She shrugged. 'I'll match whatever you say?'

* * *

Hermione sipped her glass a little more slowly whilst watching Draco from under lowered lashes. He really did seem indecisive about whether to let her engage in embarrassing questions. The funny thing was that she always initiated embarrassing conversations when presented with alcohol, and he always acted horrified by it, but he was _such_ an enabler when it came to buying her liquor.

Well, technically, the Ministry was buying the liquor, she supposed. All the more reason to drink it. Harry deserved it after stranding them here for no discernable reason.

'What exactly is it you want to know?' Draco carefully asked.

She grinned. 'What were you thinking about?'

He frowned slightly. 'When?'

Her grin widened. 'You know when.'

It took a moment for it to sink in and then his eyes widened and he recoiled. She could barely stop herself from laughing out loud. 'Ugh, gross, Hermione!' he objected.

'Was it?' she innocently asked, taking another sip. 'It didn't look that way to me. Unless, of course, you _really_ like "gross".'

He leant forward, pinning her with a glare. 'We will never ever talk about that again. Ever.'

Hermione snorted. 'It can't be that bad.'

'It's _personal_ and way outside of my comfort zone.'

Hermione shrugged. 'Why?'

'Because, as you keep pointing out, I'm a prude.'

'And here I thought you were just thinking about fucking someone.'

'Could you please stop using such crude language?' He was beginning to look a little distressed.

'Fine. Whatever.' She waved him off with a hand. It was so typical for Draco Malfoy to kill all the fun. She wasn't supposed to have sex and she wasn't supposed to talk about sex... God, she'd have more fun being cooped up with an asexual eunuch.

She spent a few minutes trying her very best to figure out whether "asexual eunuch" was a redundant term.

Draco made an annoyed sound and went over go get out another of the bottles from the cabinet and snatch up a glass. He sat down and poured himself a generous serving and took a sip before going, 'Eugh! This tastes like pine!'

Hermione glanced at the bottle. Gin. 'Pine?' She couldn't help the grin. 'I suppose that sums it up. I have a cousin who claims it tastes like fox piss. How she would know that, I'm not sure.'

Draco scowled, but took a few more sips. 'Remind me that Muggle liquor is crap,' he said. 'I sort of liked the vodka, but all else is crap.'

Hermione shrugged. She was still a bit put out that she could have no fun at all. Maybe she could manage to hobble down to the pub later? Draco certainly wasn't showing any appreciation for the fact that she was abstaining for his comfort. Well, as far as he knew, anyway.

He sighed irritably. 'It was a common fantasy, all right? Like you said.'

'Obviously, I was aiming for more detail than that,' she muttered, still pouting.

'Someone sucking me off,' he bit out, looking very uncomfortable and swiftly emptying his glass after.

Hermione brightened. 'Really? Anyone in particular? Like, an ex, or someone you saw on the street or—?'

'No.' He refilled his glass, sloshing a bit over the side. 'I don't usually care to give them a face, much less a real one. Your turn.'

She considered, and then decided she might as well shock him, so beaming, she said, 'I once had a fantasy about you!'

That caught him just as he was taking another sip, and he choked on the gin, coughing, whilst his eyes teared up and his face went red. Interesting. Hermione cocked her head, enjoying the show.

He attempted to say something, coughed some more, and then finally croaked, 'What?'

Oh, what a terribly silly response. 'I once had a fantasy about you,' she unabashedly repeated.

'A-a sexual fantasy?' he choked.

'Well, it would hardly be a big thing if I admitted to having had violent fantasies about you. I think everyone who's even met you would marvel if I hadn't.'

'Right.' He cleared his throat. Then he cleared it again. 'Wh-when? How? Why? Do I even want to know this?' He stared down at his glass with a strange look on his face and then completely drained it in one go as if to aiming to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'You don't think you're overreacting?' she asked.

'It's unsettling!' he bit out. 'We sleep in the same bed!'

'So?' she calmly asked. 'I have tons of fantasies that I never want to live out.'

He frowned at that. 'Really?'

She slowly shook her head, marvelling at how he couldn't know something so basic. 'Really,' she said. 'Fantasies and reality are a world apart.'

'Hmh.' He played with his glass, apparently giving this way too much thought.

'So you never even thought about it, huh?' she drily said, annoyed that this rankled her so much. It was just... she hardly wanted anything to do with him, but it would be nice if he didn't constantly act as if she might as well be the proud owner of black teeth, warts and two extra toes for all her appeal. And it _shouldn't_ freak him out so badly to hear that she had thought about it once. Just that once. They'd been pretending to be married, for crying out loud. They'd... had to kiss in public and such. Any normal person would have wondered.

He quickly glanced at her, but then shook his head. 'There is no right answer to that one.'

Actually there was. Anything that didn't involve him calling her ugly and undesirable _again_. But whatever. 'It's your turn again,' she said, having long since perfected the art of pretending she was above vanity. 'Have you really never had a one-night stand?'

Draco glanced at her again. 'I never said that.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, so you did? So you have double standards? It's all right for you to do it, but the witches you do it with are whores?'

'Don't be stupid,' he snapped. 'And it's been very, very rare and only when... when it couldn't be otherwise.'

'I thought you were above giving in to such basic urges.' Her voice was sarcastic.

He snorted. 'I am. Mostly. But even I have weak days.' He sneered, but it seemed to be directed mostly at himself.

Maybe that explained why he seemed almost bleak some days after he'd obviously been out late the night before. Hermione had always assumed that it was just because he was obsessing about finding a mate, but maybe it was because he felt he'd been "weak". Huh.

And he called _her_ damaged.

'I don't see why that's such a bad thing,' she said. 'You take life too seriously.'

'Or maybe you don't take it seriously enough,' he muttered. 'Aren't there things you want? Things you would miss never having had if you died tomorrow?'

Hermione shrugged. 'No, not really.'

'You're one of the lucky few then.'

'I am.' She smiled as she thought of everything she had in her life. 'But then again, you don't see me focusing on everything I _don't_ have.'

'Why would you? According to you, you don't want any of it.'

'No,' she corrected him. 'According to me, I just don't want what you want. There are things I wish I had or regret not having, and things that I'm working towards getting and doing, but if I die tomorrow, I'll know I had everything I needed right now.'

'How philosophical,' he muttered, scowling as if she had made fun of him. 'But, unfortunately for me, I just happen to have very little that matters, and sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying to get it. Who knows? Maybe you're right. Maybe it's better to just... find release whenever the itch gets bad enough and otherwise seek fulfillment in other places. I'm weary of this shit.' He drank again.

Somehow Hermione doubted he was sober any more. But then again, who was? She felt sympathy for him, though. 'Part of the key to getting what you want is not giving up before you get it,' she reminded him. 'My way is good for me. I doubt it'd be good for you. Although if you ask me, it's always good to try and be happy in more than one area of your life.'

He stared down at his empty glass. 'Yeah...' he muttered. 'I guess. And who knows, maybe you don't always get a second chance at something. Maybe you have _one_ shot and if life trips you up, too bad.' He pushed away his glass.

Hermione deliberately didn't reply. She had a feeling that this was about his dating, and what could she say? " _Don't keep comparing your witches to a dead person_ "? It would be good advice, but it wouldn't quite be what he needed to hear. Besides, he probably already realised this. Knowing the right thing wasn't the same as doing the right thing. Sometimes it was simply too hard.

'Is your foot better?' he asked, nodding towards her poor, abused foot.

Hermione nodded. 'Yeah.' It still pounded and ached, but at least she cared less now.

'Good.' He sighed. 'I've had enough to drink. Isn't it about time for bed, anyway?'

She nodded again. 'Go ahead. I'll just stay out here.'

Draco immediately looked guarded and suspicious. 'Why?'

She shrugged. She'd thought he was freaked out and would want it that way. 'It's still more pleasant to keep the foot elevated, and the way you toss and turn, you'll probably just kick it.'

He narrowed his eyes, studying her, but then he relaxed, looking as weary as he'd claimed to be. 'Fine. You'll get the bed to yourself. Just don't make a habit of it.'

'I didn't ask for—'

'But you got it!' he interrupted her. 'Do me a favour and don't make a fuss about it. I just want sleep.'

Hermione didn't fuss. After all, she wanted the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco's mouth was dry, his neck was stiff from being at an odd angle all night, and his stomach was in an uproar.

He definitely disliked gin. And this sofa.

Slowly he sat up, clenching his eyes shut at the predictable surging headache and nausea. He would vow to never drink again, he really would, but he was quite certain that he'd have to go out on a case with Hermione again at some point, so...

What was it with her sudden fixation on fornication, anyway? It really wasn't something he was used to discussing quite that openly and _frequently_. Drinking had barely helped his discomfort. And, oh, God, what else had he said? He cradled his head in his hands. Had he really admitted to her that his life wasn't working out particularly well? Great. Who needed self-respect, anyway? Of course he'd confirm to her that being a slag worked better than attempting to find something real.

Then again, for all he knew, it did.

Hermione emerged from the kitchen area, holding a bowl of cereal. 'Oh, you're up,' she said, slurping obnoxiously loudly and clanking her spoon against the bowl with each swoop. 'Do you need to spend another day in bed, recovering, or can we actually get some work done today?'

He glared at her and then got up and went to the bathroom to make himself presentable and maybe find some of those little white pills that were the only pain relief he was allowed here. Although, granted, if Hermione could handle that foot of hers without potions, he supposed he could handle a hangover. He just wished _she_ would get hungover more often. Maybe next time he should get her some of that... "tequila". He knew for a fact that tequila made her forget what she'd been doing and vomit a lot.

Ok, maybe no tequila. If the thought of what she might actually _do_ hadn't discouraged him, the thought of vomit everywhere did.

He hurried through his routine, and then almost before he knew it, they were on their way down to that damn Muggle village yet again.

'I miss magic,' he wistfully said.

'Oh, come off it,' Hermione scoffed. 

'No, I really do,' he sighed. 'Once we've done this, can we go home?'

Hermione glared at him. 'It's not even been a week! We arrived Monday evening and now it's Saturday morning! We usually take much longer than that!'

'Thanks, I know the days of the week,' he snapped. 'But we're wasting our time here.'

'Yeah, yeah,' she said, waving him off in a condescending way that made him want to shake her. 'But fine. Once we have something—or nothing—to say about the forest incident, we will go home.'

A thought suddenly hit Draco. 'How are we going to find someone to identify the tracks? I mean, do we even know who can do that?'

Hermione smirked, looking far too smug. Drat. 'This village gets its limited tourism from hunters and wildlife enthusiasts. I looked at the hoarding down by that tiny tourist shop, and it had the name, address and phone number of someone offering guided tours up in the forest. I figured that even if he doesn't know how to read the forest for clues, he will know who around here does.'

Outdone again by the know-it-all. 'And how do we explain us wanting to know so badly?'

She grinned. 'That one's easy: Curiosity!'

'Curiosity. How... elaborate.'

'It doesn't have to be elaborate to be good. We heard the stories about wild animals and so we want to spend a day of our holiday investigating it.'

Damn it. That sounded just like some inane tourist thing to do. She was right. Nobody would need more explanation than that. He really hated it when she made things seem so obvious and simple.

* * *

Hermione was fuming. She hid it well, but she was fuming. She'd just about had it with Draco's moody scowling. Trying to please him was a study in futility. He was right; it was past time they went home. They weren't going to get better at getting along than this, anyway.

Irritated, she punched the doorbell to the adress listed in the ad with a finger.

'He could be at work,' Draco said.

'It's Saturday,' she pointed out. 'And the note said he'd be in now. If not, I'll ring his mobile to set up a meeting.'

'You couldn't have done that first?' he asked, rubbing his temple as if it hurt.

Hermione smiled darkly. 'I could. But you and your poor constitution looked like you could use some fresh air.'

He scowled at her again, and Hermione turned her back on him, about to ring the doorbell again, when the door opened to reveal a very, very _wide_ man. It wasn't that he was fat, he was just very... muscular, she supposed. And big in his build. His shirt was rolled up to reveal his forearms, which were like logs in themselves.

_Oh, my!_

'Yes?' the man said, and Hermione looked up. Ohh. This town had good genes. Dark hair, dark eyes; masculine, slightly rough features... yeah, she could live with that.

When Hermione failed to find her voice, Draco irritably asked, 'You the guide?'

The man looked over at Draco. 'You're the bloke that was down the pub the other night. You didn't mention anything about a woman...' His gaze swept back to Hermione in a very flattering manner. Hermione smiled at him, and he smiled back.

'Must have forgotten,' Draco drily replied. 'As you can see, she doesn't say much, so she's very easy to forget.'

Hermione shot him an annoyed glance and cleared her throat. 'Are you the guide, Callum Brown?'

The man nodded.

'Can you track?' Draco asked, sounding even more irritable, the impatient git.

'Depends. What do you need to track? And why?' Brown leant against his doorframe, apparently in no great hurry to move it along.

'We... um, we heard that there might be some exciting beasts up in the forest, and we thought it would be fun to hire a guide to maybe see if we could find any evidence,' Hermione said with her most girlish giggle and flirty look.

She could practically hear Draco biting back a sarcastic comment.

Brown looked at her for a bit, his dark eyes thoughtful. She probably shouldn't underestimate his intelligence. 'When do you need to go?'

Draco cut in before she got a chance to reply. 'As soon as possible, if you please. We can pay extra if you come right now.'

'Don't be so rude, Draco!' Hermione admonished, turning back to Brown. 'I'm sure he has... people, depending on him. Like, say, a wife?' She looked up at him.

'No wife,' Brown muttered. 'Just let me get my things. Meet you by the edge in half an hour?'

'That would be great,' Hermione said, beaming.

* * *

Draco could barely keep from gagging. 'That was disgusting!' he said. 'What was that? Like some Muggle mating ritual?'

Hermione sniffed and went past him. 'You didn't honestly think I was going to keep trying to please you when it had so little effect, did you? And as far as I'm concerned, that _was_ a mating ritual. Did you see those hands? I bet they would feel really nice... so keep out of it!'

He had seen those hands. Huge, calloused working hands. And she was trying to provoke him into criticising her. He squinted, as if in thought. 'Yeah, sorry, Granger. He's a bit big for my tastes.'

She grinned wolfishly. 'I'm sure he won't be too big for my tastes.'

Draco slapped his palm against his forehead and groaned. He should have seen that one coming. 'Isn't one loverboy enough?'

'Never,' she said with an annoying smile. 'Besides, I never did anything with Jack.'

'Who?'

'The grocery Muggle.'

'Ah. But I thought you smoothed things over.'

'Not exactly. I just explained things. Speaking of—' She waved at someone, and Draco looked up to see Jack the Muggle sweeping outside his shop. Jack reluctantly nodded back at them and then resumed sweeping.

Draco felt a sense of premonition. 'Just what exactly did you tell him?'

Hermione smiled very sweetly at him. 'That you suddenly had a fit of jealousy and threatened to throw me aside if I didn't stop seeing him.' She sighed dramatically. 'And I just can't afford to raise the little one by myself. I will just have to endure your constant stream of hussies whilst I sleep alone in our big, cold bed.'

Draco felt really, really tired. 'There's a little one now?' He supposed he'd asked for it by forcing her to tell the Muggle something. It wasn't an uncommon game of theirs to tell people lies to make the other one look bad whilst they were undercover. They had been quite the talk of their neighbours when "married". Of course, that had only made it that much easier to find the information they had been looking for—because people _undercover_ didn't create such a ruckus, did they?

Potter had never quite decided whether to praise or reprimand them on it.

Hermione dramatically grabbed her stomach. 'It doesn't quite show just yet, but it happened the one and only time you've touched me this past year. You were drunk, of course, and very clumsy. And selfish. At least now I will have the babe to love!'

He rubbed his aching temple. 'You've read too many cheap romance novels.'

Hermione grinned and shrugged. 'You insisted I tell him something.'

'Yes, well, if he asks, I'll have to tell him that... I reacted like that because you got me drunk and tricked me, becoming pregnant in an attempt to trap me into marriage. You only got what you asked for.'

Hermione stopped walking, looking thoughtful. 'You know, that would kind of make sense. But why not ask for an abortion?'

Draco shot her a disgusted look. 'I wouldn't do that even in your twisted little fantasies.' Drunk, clumsy, possessive, unfaithful... whatever. But that was as far as it went.

She grinned. 'I can't believe you allow your real principles to affect this story.'

'At least I have some,' he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. 'Classy, Malfoy. Really classy. Congratulations! Your principles just ruined your life! You lose!' She strode on ahead of him.

So? What did she care? It was just some stupid lie told to some random Muggle. He sighed. _Women_.

* * *

Hermione was walking ahead with the tracker, doing her best to disgust Draco so he would keep his distance. She was _thoroughly_ annoyed with him and his attitude, so a distraction was very welcome at this point. 

Smiling sweetly, she said, 'So, Mr Brown—'

'Please,' he gruffly replied. 'Callum. We're not so formal out here.'

Hermione's smile widened. 'Callum. I like that name. I'm Hermione. Can you see anything here?' She quickly glanced at the forest around them, which really was nothing more than a bunch of trees to her.

Callum shrugged. 'Nothing unusual. You said you believed it had been sighted to the east?'

Hermione nodded. 'Some, ah, friends of ours talked about strange noises and sightings about a mile in.'

Callum nodded. 'If there's anything to it, I'll find something. I doubt it, though.'

Hermione doubted it too. 'So, is it... fun, living out here?' she ventured, biting her lip.

He gave her a strange look. 'Don't get me wrong,' he then said. 'I'd very much like to get to know you. But isn't he your bloke?' He jerked his head back at Draco.

She glanced back at Draco, who was leaning against a tree, looking extremely bored at their slow pace. She really had to speak to Harry about making sure they got two bedrooms so they could have better covers. She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. 'It's a very open relationship,' she said.

Callum sighed and shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but I'm not getting caught up in that.'

Hermione blinked. Ok, that was a new one. Usually, they just went for the possibility of sex—that was, unless they weren't attracted to her, of course. 'Why not?' she asked.

'He seems the jealous sort.'

She scowled back at Draco. Damn him and his moods. 'Um, it's true that he's not too happy today,' she said, trying to think something up. 'But he's damaged you see. He got injured in the—in the war. He can't... you know, so I can get that from others, he doesn't mind. Sometimes he just gets a little... moody.'

Callum frowned and absent-mindedly nodded at her hastily spun tale. 'What war?' he then asked.

What war, indeed? Hermione quickly tried to conjure up what she knew of the recent Muggle wars. 'I, um, Afghanistan?'

'He didn't mention that at the pub,' Callum muttered. 'Would've bought a war hero a pint.'

Hermione did her very best not to snort. A war hero, Draco most certainly was not. But she supposed that once his family was out of danger and he'd joined the Auror ranks, he'd made up for that a dozen times over. 'His injury embarrasses him,' she said instead. 'And he doesn't like to talk about what he saw there. He'd much rather you never ask him about it. Ever.' Draco wasn't likely to know where Afghanistan was, let alone what was going on there, after all.

Callum nodded and then halted her by holding out his arm. 'Hold on,' he said in a very low voice. 'I think I see something. Stay here.' He moved ahead much more quietly than she would have thought possible of such a large man.

Obediently, she stopped and waited, hoping that this would be over soon so she could get inside where it was warm.

Maybe she'd find a way to persuade Callum that Draco really wasn't jealous and then take advantage of that nice big body of his.

That certainly did sound like a plan.

* * *

Draco sauntered up to Hermione, not liking how she and Brown had put their heads together, glancing at him. 'What am I this time, then?' he irritably asked. 'Your abusive, alcoholic rapist?'

'No, you're a war hero,' she said, pursing her lips with amusement.

'A war hero,' he dully repeated. There had to be a catch. Did Muggles view wars in a radically different way? Or had he just been on the wrong side in this fictional war?

'Of course,' she said with an exaggerated sigh, 'you did receive an awful injury leaving you unable to... perform.'

Draco stared at her for several moments, before tearing his gaze away. 'Un-fucking-believable,' he growled, beginning to move forward, but stopping when she grabbed his arm.

'He asked us to wait,' she explained. 'He saw something.'

'More likely he just wanted to get away from you,' Draco muttered.

'Would you stop being such a pain?' Hermione hissed. 'He thinks you're jealous!'

Draco didn't even try to hide his surprise. 'Why?'

'Because you've done nothing but growl and scowl all day.'

'Oh. Sorry.' He actually did feel slightly abashed. He'd been battling his bad mood all day, but hadn't considered how it might look to someone like Brown.

Hermione stuck her nose up at him. 'You're not sorry. You're sabotaging me.'

Wait, what? 'Why would I do that?'

'I don't know! Why wouldn't you? Because they're Muggles. Because you disapprove of casual sex. Because you envy my fun. Because you just hate me enough to not want to see me happy!'

Draco blinked. 'I—I don't _hate_ you, Hermione.'

'All evidence points to the contrary,' she said. 'And you know what? I don't care. Cultivate your hatred and spite all you want. But stay out of my personal life!'

Draco didn't know what to respond. He didn't hate her. He would never have been able to work with her if he did. In fact, he didn't understand this assumption at all. Yeah, so they fought a lot and didn't make very good housemates; but when it mattered, he'd nearly died for her several times already. If he'd hated her, he wouldn't have gotten in the way of curses meant for her or hauled her out of bottomless pits when odds were that he'd as soon fall down himself as save her. And if she thought so little of him, why had she done those very same things for him in return?

This was why so many of the other Aurors got a free pass when it came to partnering with him—they _did_ dislike and mistrust him enough that they couldn't guarantee they would make the sacrifice it took to be a good partner. After the war was over and Draco had proven his worth by going through the full Auror training programme, Hermione had always trusted him to do everything he could to keep her alive, and she had done the same in turn—so why did she suddenly claim he hated her?

He looked up and saw Brown was making his way back to them. He really hadn't thought that this potential fling had been that important to Hermione. 'Maybe I should go back,' he quietly said. 'Leave Brown and you to it. This is hardly going to be an exciting find anyway.'

Hermione openly scoffed at him. 'You just want to get away from the wet and the cold. Too bad, you're staying!'

Draco shrugged. 'Was just trying to be nice.'

'Don't strain anything.'

Draco bit back a retort as Brown had reached them. Instead he did his very best to look friendly. Brown didn't seem to notice. He looked excited and a little frightened.

'What is it?' Hermione asked. 'Did you see it?'

Brown blinked as if surprised to see them there. 'Hm? No. That was just some critter. But came across some paw prints... I think I have to go make some calls.'

'Why?' Draco asked. 'What were they?'

Brown frowned. 'I can't really be sure, but they looked like wolf prints. Large ones. I have to report it to the authorities. The Wolf Trust is going to want to know too. There haven't been wolves in any part of Britain for more than three hundred years. This could be quite a find! This will really put Firrhaven on the map! Look, I took a picture!' He pulled out one of those strange electronic cameras Muggles liked to use and with a few presses of a button, he showed Draco a perfect image of a very large paw print.

Hermione exhaled heavily.

Draco looked at her, regretting what had to be done. 'I'm sorry, Hermione.' She just waved a hand at him and turned away. He took out his wand and pointed it at Brown. ' _Obliviate_.'

* * *

Hermione stared out at the rain. It really did nothing to lift her spirits. She'd felt like this since yesterday.

She hated it when they had to _Obliviate_ someone she'd enjoyed talking to. She hated the way they looked at her afterwards; confused, wary, unrecognising. She hated the way they stumbled away and how she couldn't contact them again for fear she would bring up any part of what they weren't supposed to remember.

'At least we're reasonably sure there's a rogue werewolf now,' Draco quietly said. 'Although I think we should have kept his camera.'

Hermione had managed to delete the image and had returned the camera to Callum before he dazedly walked off. 'We have no need for it,' she quietly said. 'If the prints were still there, they'll hardly wash away before our experts arrive. That camera had pictures of his family and friends. He wouldn't have wanted to lose those.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Sometimes you really are oddly soft, Granger. But I suppose you're right. And we'll have been instrumental in catching a rogue one!'

She shrugged. 'Who cares? No one's been hurt. He or she isn't attacking anyone. We should leave them alone.'

'You don't mean that,' he scoffed. 'You know they're dangerous and we have to keep tabs on them or there'll be more bodies for us to find.'

She slowly turned around and leant against the windowsill. 'There was a time when they required Muggle-borns to register.'

'Don't tell me you don't see the difference.'

'I do. I just don't know where to draw the line.'

Draco shook his head at her. 'How soon do you think the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures responds to our request for assistance?'

Hermione shrugged. 'Muggle post is slower than owling. We may have to wait until Tuesday.'

'Two more days. And it's raining.' Draco sighed. 'Want to get drunk again?'

'Not really.' Hermione turned back around.

He did a mock double-take behind her. 'Did I hear correctly? _You_ turned down alcohol?'

'I'm just not in the mood!' she growled.

Draco sighed. 'How about going down to the pub, then? That way we don't have to cook, and if you change your mind about getting drunk, that will be an option too.'

'It's raining.'

'So? Muggles have umbrellas, don't they? I think I spotted one around here somewhere.'

Hermione felt an irrational annoyance at the way Draco kept poking her. 'You go!' she snapped.

He shook his head. 'I don't want to go alone. You know Muggles make me uncomfortable. But I'm sure there'll be lots of men, all more than willing to entertain you.'

'Why bother?' she muttered, knowing it came off as a pout.

There was a brief pause behind her. 'I didn't want to do it,' he then said, sounding as if he meant it. 'I would have preferred not to. But I highly doubt we could have kept him from alerting everyone about those prints. I'm sorry.'

And _she_ very highly doubted he was truly sorry about what he'd done. Using _Obliviate_ on Muggles was par for the course. 

She found her own feelings stupid anyway. She'd developed this irrational over-sensitivity whenever it came to memory modification because of what she'd done to her parents to save them in the war. It hadn't even been against their will—they had actually agreed to go after much begging and discussion and eventual emotional blackmail—but to have your very own parents look at you with empty eyes and treat you politely like you were a stranger, even if due to a powerful spell, was extremely painful. 

Now whenever they had to _Obliviate_ someone, Hermione felt herself being sucked back to that time, to feeling like an orphan in the middle of a war because her parents were someone else. She hadn't been able to tell her friends about it, because they wouldn't understand; they had never had to do anything like it, and they didn't understand how depressing it was to know that if she died, her parents would never know, would never grieve, because whilst they were still alive and well, they didn't _remember_ her.

In short: It was _stupid_.

Hermione stepped over and grabbed her coat. 'Come on,' she grumbled before she went outside without even waiting for an answer.

* * *

Draco followed a very determined Hermione into the local pub and, quickly before she changed her mind, he ordered food for both of them.

He knew she hated to be erased from people's minds. He wasn't sure why, she never spoke about it, but memory modification always seemed to upset her, and she always refused to be the one to do it. He assumed it went back to the war, but he really couldn't be sure. He'd never asked.

Hermione sat down at a worn table and placed her head in her hands. Draco sat down across from her but didn't attempt to make her talk to him. She'd agreed to leave the cabin, which was a satisfying first step. If he pushed too hard, it would just end in an ugly fight and quite frankly he wasn't in the mood for that today.

'Where are the men you promised me?' she suddenly said after a while.

Draco grinned. Typical. 'Give them time. It's early yet.'

Hermione looked down at the table and then frowned. 'Callum will probably be here.'

He probably would. Last Draco had been here, he'd seen Callum acting very much at home at the bar. Of course, they hadn't properly introduced themselves, which was why Draco had managed not to recognise the name or know that Callum was a guide. 'Nothing is keeping you from getting acquainted with him again,' Draco pointed out. 'Just try not to make me impotent this time.'

A small smirk ghosted across her lips. 'I only did that because you were in such a mood he thought you were jealous,' she pointed out.

'I'll behave,' he promised.

She snorted and then looked surprised as a plate of food—steak and potatoes, the very basics, which was all they'd had on the menu for today—was put in front of her. Draco himself became too engrossed in his own food to pay much attention to her. After he was done, however, he looked up to see that she was merely poking at her own food. Not a good sign. She could out-eat him most days.

He frowned. 'You becoming one of _those_ birds now, Granger?' he asked.

'What birds?' she muttered, still poking.

'The ones that starve themselves in the hopes that they'll look prettier for it. You won't.' Ok, so maybe he couldn't completely stop himself from baiting her.

She shot him a scathing look. 'I will have you know that I lead an active, healthy life at home and I do _not_ need to starve myself. If anything, I could gain a few pounds so I won't bruise the next bloke I'm giving a wild shag as badly as I did the last one.'

'Too much information, Granger,' he said, secretly pleased she'd reacted. He liked any Hermione better than a depressed Hermione.

'You asked for it, Malfoy.'

That, he had. 'Just eat the food.'

She wrinkled her nose and poked a potato. 'They didn't have shepherd's pie?'

'No.'

'You're lying. They always have shepherd's pie.'

'Trust me, Granger. They didn't. They had one thing on the menu and you're looking at it.'

'Hmh,' she grunted and pouted at her plate.

'I have the Muggle money,' he said, changing tactics. 'If you want alcohol, you'll eat that first. I've _seen_ you retch on an empty stomach.'

She stuck her tongue out at him but began eating the food without any further comments. Good girl. Draco didn't even bother hiding his smirk. Before he could gloat, though, a group of people entered the pub.

'Finally the men got here,' Hermione smugly said. 'I finished the food, Malfoy— now get me beer.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'How about 'please'?'

'How about you get moving? It's not actually your money, you know.'

Maybe he didn't like _any_ Hermione better than a depressed Hermione. 'Watch it,' he warned, 'or I'll make sure those males won't even look at you twice.'

She smiled wickedly. 'And then I'll have to make doubly sure they do!'

Draco groaned in defeat and went up to get the beer. Sometimes it was just easier not to go there. He had no doubt that she was willing to go much further than he was tonight. As he was carrying the beverages back, he looked up to see that Jack the Muggle had entered as well. Draco smirked.

'Why are you grinning like that?' Hermione suspiciously asked as he made it back.

Draco carelessly nodded towards Jack. 'How will you explain it to him if you go for someone here tonight?'

She looked up and then groaned as she realised her own lies had come back to bite her in the arse. 'Damn it!'

Draco could barely hide his glee. 'Now what?' he asked.

'Now, I get drunk,' she muttered, lifting her glass and draining it.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco was far too amused. _Far_ too amused. Hermione scowled. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time to blacken his name when she was forced to explain herself to Jack, but now... now she wasn't sure how to wipe that smirk off Draco's face.

'Don't drink so fast,' Draco lectured. 'You'll make yourself sick.'

'I won't be sick,' she haughtily responded. 'But hopefully I'll get drunk. That's the only way another night with you will be bearable.'

He snorted at her. 'Your Muggle is looking very disapproving. Why is that?' he asked and frowned in Jack's general direction.

Hermione followed his look and saw Jack scowling at her and then talking to the barman. She shrugged and looked down at what was left of her second beer. Then it hit and she nearly slapped her forehead. 'He thinks I'm pregnant,' she said. 'And I'm drinking. This village must love me.' She took another healthy swig to finish off her glass. 'Another one, please.' Maybe it would be smarter to simply go back, but she'd finally dragged her depressed arse down here, damn it.

Draco rolled his eyes and got up. A minute later he came back, empty-handed and apparently fighting a grin. 'Sorry, love. Barman doesn't want to serve you because of your... delicate condition.'

She gaped in outrage, and looked over to see the barman and Jack scowling at her. Then promptly she burst into tears. Or, rather, she pretended she did, burying her face in her hands. 'B-b-but didn't you t-tell them wh-what h-happened?' she sobbed loud enough for everyone to hear.

Draco wasn't even bothering to pretend he cared. But then again, this was in character for how she'd portrayed him, so it was all right. 'There was no baby,' he just said. Oh, he probably thought he was clever by introducing truth to the lie. Or he was uncharacteristically not up for drama tonight.

'Yes, there _was_!' she said in a theatrical wail.

He laughed. She didn't even want to know how that looked to the others. 'I highly doubt there was.' He reached out to grab her neck in a surprisingly uncomfortable hold, causing her eyes to widen, wondering where he was taking his role. 'I'd highly advice you not to "become pregnant" with "my" child again,' he silkily said, only tiny sparkles of real annoyance in his eyes betraying the act. The warning was real. He had obviously not liked that particular lie.

'How can I become pregnant if you won't touch me?' she whispered loud enough for others to hear, doing her best to inject heartbreak into her voice whilst narrowing her eyes at him.

He abruptly let go of her and waved her off, taking a sip of his own beer. 'Maybe if you'd stop being such a pitiful slag, I'd want you.'

Yeah, she'd bet. Too bad that was hardly her goal in life. Hermione lowered her eyes as in defeat, surreptitiously looking around. Yep, they had an audience all right. She hid a frown as the barman tapped her a new glass of beer and brought it over. The mission was accomplished, but it was less fun than it used to be.

* * *

That had been entirely over the top. Draco slowly shook his head to himself. It had really been too much. He honestly didn't mind being a git to Hermione--in fact, it came rather naturally to him--but she could have stopped it after her fake tears. Or, really, she could simply have told them she'd miscarried or it had been a false alarm. Whatever suited her best without the theatrics.

But he supposed it wouldn't have been half as entertaining to her. Or to this village at large. Everyone--and a few more people had arrived by now--was shooting them uncomfortable glances, whispering amongst themselves. Draco would bet they were the best entertainment this sad little pub had had all year.

What Hermione wouldn't do for a drink.

Once people had lost interest in the two of them, Hermione raised her eyebrows at Draco. 'That'll be a tough act to follow.'

Draco shook his head, sipping this bitter brew Muggles called beer. He much preferred butterbeer, really, if he had to drink any kind of beer. 'I'm not sure I want to follow it.'

'Yeah?' she asked, pursing her lips. 'I thought you were getting into it, what with the whole throat-grabbing and everything.'

He smirked. That had been mostly to see how she'd react, actually. To see if she would be able to stay in character and how she would recover her act if she couldn't. 'I scared you, admit it.'

'Did not!'

He leant forward, as if to confide in her. 'I felt your pulse,' he murmured, feeling extremely satisfied with himself. 'You thought I might actually hurt you.'

She blushed--a rare occasion in itself, although he seemed to see it a lot on this trip--no doubt not appreciating to be called on this. She quickly recovered, though. 'Maybe I just like it rough,' she purred right back at him.

He blinked, shocked, but then realised what she was doing. She was trying to make him uncomfortable so he'd forget that he'd made her nervous. Hah. His mind raced to figure out how to respond, but, alas, he couldn't come up with a way to embarrass her again. At least he could act unembarrassed himself. 'I thought you liked it any way you could get it,' he said, taking a gulp of his beer to hide his wince. He'd never understand Hermione's newfound desire to discuss such personal things so openly. Maybe it was a Muggle-born thing.

'I have to be honest with you,' she said. _No, she didn't. She really, really didn't._ 'I'm getting mightily desperate here.'

'Really?' he drily asked. 'I hadn't noticed.'

She groaned. 'Did you notice the genes of the men in this town? The women too. Look at that girl over there!' She pointed at the Muggle in question--young, pretty-ish, and not really dressed for autumn weather. 'And yet I can't take advantage of it.'

Draco cocked an eyebrow. 'Why not? They think you lost the sprog, right? So what reason do you have left to stay with me?'

'First of all, I'm sure neither I nor they know how soon after a miscarriage one is supposed to have sex again...' She looked away and frowned as if uncomfortable in some way, but then she cleared her throat and continued, 'Second, I was trying to trap you, remember? Thus I must be _desperate_ for your attention or... something.'

'I don't think we told anyone that part.'

'But I based my performance on it!' She waved her hand. 'Besides, Jack might make trouble if I go for someone else whilst he's around. It's not worth it.'

'Just go with him, then?'

Hermione made a very rude noise. 'I doubt he'd want that by now. Besides, I don't want to sleep with him. You should've heard the long whinge he had about his life the last time I went out with him.' She pouted, looking more like a child denied dessert than a woman denied male company.

'I see how waiting a few more days until we're home with... whoever you're playing with there--and please don't tell me who that would be--for you to... appease your hormones, would be completely impossible,' he drily said.

She sniffed. 'Just because _you_ have no drive...' She then made to drink from her glass, just to realise she'd already emptied it and frown. 'I'll get it this time,' she muttered, getting up.

Draco raised an eyebrow. He'd never thought he'd be accused of having no drive by someone who'd walked in on him taking care of that drive only three days ago. He merely didn't think there was any point to pursuing any kind of relations with Muggles when he knew he wouldn't be able to keep them up. He looked over at the Muggle girl Hermione had pointed out and wrinkled his nose slightly. Besides, obviously, they didn't have the same tastes in women.

* * *

'One more, please,' Hermione said with an appropriately subdued smile at the barman. She glanced back at Draco. 'Oh, and one more for him too, I guess,' she added.

'I can't figure out whether to offer my condolences or my congratulations...'

Hermione stiffened slightly. Jack was sitting a few feet away with a couple of his mates, and she'd honestly thought she'd sent a clear signal by barely acknowledging him.

'I'm going to go with congratulations,' he said. 'You're free to do whatever you want now, aren't you? No ties.'

She inwardly groaned and reminded herself that the next time she wanted to have some fun by weaving a dramatic tale, she shouldn't. 'I'll always be tied to him,' she wistfully said, throwing Draco a soulful look that made him cock an eyebrow and glance at Jack. She narrowed her eyes slightly, sending him threatening thoughts in case he felt like calling her bluff.

'He doesn't seem to be very good to you,' one of Jack's big and burly friends said in a way that was _much_ too familiar for Hermione's tastes. What happened to excusing yourself before butting into strangers' love lives?

'Oh, he's good to me,' she said with what she hoped was a meaningful glance.

'You just said he wasn't,' Jack's other friend, a knobbly sort of fellow, said.

Hermione almost groaned out loud. 'What can I say?' she asked, brushing them off. 'When he's good, he's _very_ good.' She picked up the beers and made her way back to their table. Alas, this pub was on the puny side and apparently Jack wasn't done.

'Prove it,' he quietly said as she passed him.

She stopped. 'What? I don't need to prove anything to you.'

He half-turned towards her. 'You're not one of us, which is why nothing happened yet, but here in Firrhaven, nobody treats a woman like that and walks away. So if you want him to keep the full use of his legs, prove that he's just talk.'

Hermione glanced around for the first time since they'd entered and first now she noticed the badly hidden scowls sent Draco's way. Oh, crap. Draco could best the lot of them with the use of magic, of course, but to use _Obliviate_ on half a village? Yeah, no. She sighed. Time for a sacrifice.

Not letting on to any of the outsiders that something was amiss, she sauntered up to Draco, who was already beginning to look wary. She wondered how much of what had happened he'd overheard or guessed. She placed the glasses in front of him and then with her most seductive smile, she placed herself on his lap.

He didn't even blink. Instead he said in a very low voice which could be mistaken for sweet, 'Damn you and your need to spin dramatic tales.'

'Don't worry,' she purred almost inaudibly. 'I'll make it quick and painless.'

His disapproving look was his only reply.

It wasn't like she wanted this any more than he did! It was hardly the first time for something like this to have to happen under a cover, but they made certain it was a really rare occurrence. It simply... didn't work for them at all. Yet, here she was, trying to pretend that she was arse over elbows for him, when they were both wishing they were somewhere else with _someone_ else.

Absent-mindedly, she ran a finger down his jaw, making him clench it in distaste--what an ego boost!--and then she bent forward, towards him and pressed her lips against his. His reaction was exactly what she'd known it would be: he did what he could to make it look like he wanted her whilst he really was completely indifferent to--or possibly even disgusted by--her touch.

This was why she always dreaded kissing Draco Malfoy. Even though he hadn't called her a Mudblood for years and he never openly acted derisively towards her Muggle roots or any of the Muggles they had to occasionally mingle with, he could with one simple touch meant to convey affection make her feel like he still found her to be completely worthless, and that hurt, coming from someone she frequently literally trusted with her life.

* * *

Draco hated this part with a fiery passion. Well, perhaps not so much with any kind of passion, but he disliked it. He tried to disassociate himself from the scene and discern what had prompted it. He'd heard most of what Jack the Muggle and his tactless friends had said, but he hadn't heard what had prompted this. It was quite possible that Hermione was simply bored and trying to make him uncomfortable. If she was, she was definitely succeeding.

As if on cue, she tore away from him and huskily suggested they go back, just loud enough for people to hear. He barely kept from frowning, and instead let her grab his hand and lead him from the pub, not letting go before they'd made it far enough that nobody would notice.

When she wasn't very forthcoming in explaining the events to him, he said, 'Care to tell me why I was dragged away from my drink?'

'They were going to beat you up for being an abusive git,' she irritably said. 'I saved your offensive arse.'

Things made slightly more sense now. Although she shouldn't be quite _that_ put out that she had to do it. 'You can't blame that on me,' he pointed out. 'It was all because of your stories.'

She didn't reply.

Brilliant. Just what he'd wanted. For her to be pissed off at him once again. 'For crying out loud, Granger,' he sighed. 'Are you really pinning this one on me?'

She slowly shook her head. 'No.'

'Then what?' He was seriously at a loss.

'Nothing.'

'Obviously something.'

'I simply don't know how I can trust you when you won't even tell me the truth,' she quietly said.

Draco's brain had been considerably slowed by the Muggle beer. 'Come again?'

She sighed. 'It's so obvious, and I don't even know why you try to hide it. Is it because it gets in the way of what you want? I bet it is. You want the perfect picture of a traditional family, and owning up to _who you are_ would ruin that, wouldn't it?'

'I've not a single clue what you're on about,' he very honestly replied.

'You have to be gay.'

His eyes went impossibly wide and he stopped to stare at her. 'I have to what?'

'Gay. Homosexual. You like to ride the brooms. I really don't see _any_ reason why you would even bother hiding it, other than your silly attempt to pursue what you think you want. If you were a Muggle, certainly, I'd understand. Muggles have hate crimes against anyone that deviates even slightly from the average. But witches and wizards are taught early on what it's like to be apart and it's not like it's really--'

'I'm not!' he interrupted her before she could get to her in-depth explanation of why it would be all right for him to prefer men over women. He most certainly did not. He'd always preferred women and couldn't fathom why she'd think otherwise. Was it something he'd said? Done? Some sort of look, maybe? No, he couldn't recall there being anything. He'd barely glanced at another male in there, except to figure out what _she_ had been up to.

She snorted and went on walking.

He followed her and grabbed her arm to turn her around. 'No, I'm really _not_. What gave you that idea? You know I only go out with witches.'

Her brows knitted as she was obviously trying to figure him out.

He let go of her. Maybe he was giving her too much credit. This whole thing reeked of vanity. 'Is this about me not wanting to snog you?'

She crossed her arms over her chest as if she were cold. 'Of course not. It's... many things. But it doesn't help that you would snog me even less passionately than Harry would.'

Draco blinked. 'You snogged Potter?'

Hermione shrugged. 'About four years ago on a case. Ginny was nine months pregnant with James, and Harry was going out of his mind with worry that we weren't going to make it back in time--yet when the situation called for it, he managed to give a somewhat believable performance.'

'They believed us!'

'I have _frostbite_ from that in there. I'm sorry, but since you can't be honest, I'm going to have to tell Harry that we can't work together any longer.' She turned and began walking again.

'Why do you insist that I'm not honest?' he asked, following her, beginning to feel more and more indignant. 'Because you can only work with men that are falling over themselves to get in your knickers?'

'No...' It was hardly more than a whisper. 'Because if you're not gay, then your blatant revulsion can really only come from one thing. And I thought we were long past those issues. I can't trust someone who despises me for my parentage--at least not as completely as I need to trust a partner.'

Draco's head was spinning. He sort of saw her logic, but it was simply wrong. In truth, he'd never even thought about it. Never wanted to think about it. She was Hermione Granger. She wasn't someone he could... think about. Not because of her parentage--although that frankly wasn't in her favour for a variety of reasons--but because she was _Hermione Granger_. She was one of Potter's friends and one of the War Heroes, and they barely lived on the same planet. Not to mention that they'd known each other for so long that changing how he thought about her now simply didn't make much sense. 

He didn't know how to explain that to her in a way she would understand, though, and he could hardly claim that he found her physically repulsive and hope that would smooth things over with her.

He wished he'd let her think he was gay.

* * *

Hermione was feeling far too sober to deal with this yet far too drunk to think of something else to fight about, so she simply stopped talking to Draco. It didn't matter anyway. As a person who loved snogging--often and with almost anyone willing if she was in the right mood--Hermione would gladly go for that kind of cover with just about everyone else, but Malfoy she hated touching. The very thought of having to put her lips on his always made her stomach clench uncomfortably and sometimes she even felt nauseous.

It wasn't that she found his looks or even his demeanor off-putting. In a general sense, she did mind his personality, but she hardly ever factored that in when she considered who she'd snog. Snogging was the very opposite of conversation, after all, and she was hardly looking for more.

It wasn't even that she remembered past offences or present annoyances. Not at all. The past offences were buried in the past, and the present annoyances... well, she was used to them.

It was simply upsetting to have to snog someone who was so frigid towards her when they did it. It was the little things that bothered her. The things that nobody else picked up on. It was the way his lips were hard and tense. The way his spine was stiff. The way his every movement was completely mechanical and his eyes were indifferent. The way that his heartbeat was completely steady, his complexion remained perfectly pale, and certainly no part of him ever rose to the occasion, no matter what.

This whole manner in which he didn't respond to her with anything but distaste, no matter how much she tried to ingratiate herself with his body--and yes, she'd tried that when they were posing as a married couple; mostly because she'd been bored out of her mind for days on end--told her more clearly than anything else he said or did just how lowly he regarded her. She'd never met another straight man that could keep himself from having the most basic involuntary responses once she used all of her considerable tricks.

That was all she wanted, really. A basic response. A small flush, lips that would linger, or a hand that would forget it was for show and seek out a fun place. Anything to make her feel like he was a human being who instinctively recognised that she was a human being as well. But he didn't. Because he didn't feel like she was. She was some kind of sub-human. Or less than even that--a monkey! A common monkey-like creature too ugly to be cute and too common to be worth preserving.

Not that she was exaggerating or anything.

That he wasn't truly attracted to women had been something she'd bet the last of her sanity on. But, no. It wasn't women. It was her. How could he loathe her enough to not even be able to pretend he was snogging someone else unless he had a deep-seated disgust that prevented him from seeing her as female at all?

'I don't understand,' he sighed after they'd let themselves into the cabin. 'I can't decide whether this is some kind of joke or whether you've gone mental.'

She didn't know what to respond to that. 'I just need sleep,' she finally muttered. 'We'll talk in the morning.'

'No, how about now,' he insisted, making her arch an eyebrow. He should know by now that pushing an argument with her wasn't going to bring pretty results. 'You're accusing me of being prejudiced against your roots because I'm not snogging you to your liking? Really? Would you listen to your own logic?'

'Fuck off, Malfoy,' she said, too inebriated and angry to really explain her mind.

'No, _you_ fuck off, Granger!' he growled right back at her. 'You _know_ I had to let them practically brainwash me to even be allowed to complete the Auror training--which all you damn War Heroes just bypassed anyway--and that every single fucking year since then, they've re-evaluated me to make sure that I'm not the next Dark Wizard or even simply biased enough to let any Muggles or Muggle-borns suffer unnecessarily, so _why_ are you on about this?'

'So you'll really have me believe that you like witches but you find me so off-putting as a person that it's not even possible for you to close your eyes and think of someone else instead of making me uncomfortable? And that it has nothing to do with my blood?'

He blinked, looking confused. 'I make you uncomfortable? I'm the uncomfortable one!'

'It's not easy to pretend to want to jump the bones of someone who's clearly fighting not to push me away when he _should_ just be taking one for the team like the rest of us.'

He frowned. 'You never once mentioned this before. How was I supposed to know that I was offending you?'

'I mentioned it _every single time_! How is that "never once"?'

'What, you mean the mocking? I'll pay attention the day you _don't_ mock me about something.'

Hermione threw up her hands. 'Whatever! Next time, I'll let them beat you!' And with that she marched into the bedroom, slamming the door after herself.

* * *

That was the oddest row Draco had ever had the misfortune of having with Hermione. What did she want him to do? He was a fairly competent actor in most instances, but he could hardly see how he could do any better in this one. They simply had to avoid those situations if they were so bad, that was all.

Feeling a bit restless, Draco went over to have a look at the liquor that was left. He picked up a bottle to look at it, but then a thought hit him: _I'm the one acting like a boozer now_. Quietly, he put the bottle back down. How come his solution to arguments with Hermione was always to get drunk--or in some cases drunker? It was deeply disturbing. Looking back over the last couple of years, it seemed to be a pattern on the less pressing cases--drink or kill each other.

There were two solutions to that--either they refused being paired off, or they handled their problems rather than avoided them. He'd love to refuse being paired with her, but since she was one of the few that would actually accept cases with him, it was probably more than his job was worth.

He had to solve this. If he lost his job, he'd lose who he was and probably end up becoming who his parents wanted him to be. He'd fought too long and too hard to avoid that to let not being able to pretend to be lovey-dovey with Hermione Granger get in his way.

But how did he solve neither of them liking posing as a couple? This was crazy. And he wasn't in the best frame of mind for trouble-solving. Maybe he'd just go to bed. Yeah, bed sounded nice. He'd be damned if he'd sleep out here.

He'd hoped that Hermione would be asleep once he made it to the bedroom, but no such luck. She was scowling at him from over the top of a book. 'Didn't think you'd be in here yet,' she said. 'Did we run out of liquor or something?' Draco didn't reply but just began pulling off his clothes, making Hermione roll her eyes. 'Could you at least wait until the lights are out?' she scathingly asked.

'Why? Does my lack of erection offend you?' he shot back.

Hermione pursed her lips. 'This is quite possibly the stupidest conversation I've ever had. And I've known _you_ for eighteen years.'

'I know!' he said, swinging his arms out to the sides and almost knocking over a lamp. 'Why can't we just avoid having to... do those things?'

'Today could have been avoided,' she coolly said, 'but it won't be possible _every_ time. There's a reason why Harry prefers to send out mixed pairs, you know. If you need a cover in a pinch, it's easier to go for silly and lovestruck. _Most_ of us prefer to have to do that with someone of the opposite sex, although, granted, there are exceptions. You _claim_ you're not an exception, but...'

'I'm not going to say I'm gay to suit you, Hermione,' he said, frowning down at himself. He'd forgotten something. Oh, right. He was down to his underwear. Pyjama bottoms. Where were they?

Hermione pointed to the other side of the room. 'They're over there. Cover yourself up, for crying out loud.'

'I only wear them 'cause of you anyway,' he muttered, getting them and slowly and carefully putting them on, focusing, so he didn't topple over.

'And I'm very grateful for that.'

'Why? What does it matter?' He was being contrary, but he was simply so annoyed. He only _wore_ those damn things to be respectable around her, but what did it matter? They couldn't get along without drinking--and not even always then! And he'd thought he knew her, but he didn't. She wasn't who he'd thought at all! She apparently enjoyed banging strange Muggles, and now she was mad at him for... aw, hell, he couldn't even figure out why, because it was so mind-numbingly stupid.

'There are still things I'd much rather not see,' she pointed out.

'And here I was of the impression that you wanted to see it all,' he muttered.

She smirked. 'I already saw it all, remember?'

He stared at her. Now? She chose to poke fun at him about that _now_?

She rolled her eyes at him. 'Oh, I cannot believe how touchy you still are about that.'

'Really?' he drily asked, finally going back to his side of the bed. 'And how would you feel? Thrilled to get an audience?'

She shrugged. 'Probably relaxed. That's how I usually feel after.'

Draco snorted. 'Right. You wouldn't care if I walked in on you at all. You weren't embarrassed about what happened. You're so tough and nothing could ever faze you.'

'I was only embarrassed because I knew you'd be,' she said, returning to her book.

'That makes about as much sense as everything else you've said tonight,' he muttered, lying down on top of the covers.

She reached out without looking up from her book and patted him on the shoulder, almost slapping him in the process. He wasn't sure whether that was an accident. 'There, there,' she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

'You don't seem that mad any more,' he observed.

She shrugged. 'I'm over it.'

'Just like that, huh?'

'Just like that.'

'And that's despite the fact that my lack of excitement clearly signalled your inferiority?'

'You're walking on thin ice here, Malfoy,' she warned.

'But that's because you're _not_ over it. You just pretend you are and then we'll have bigger fights about smaller things and--'

'And what?' she drily asked. 'We'll break up, and wherever will the kids live? I think we'll manage.' She slowly turned another page.

'You don't think we could be friends if we tried?' he asked, frowning.

Hermione considered the idea. 'I think that you are intoxicated to even suggest such a thing,' she then said.

'No,' he muttered, his frown deepening, something odd occurring to him. 'I think we _are_ friends.'

'Ok, now I know you're off your rocker.'

'Am I?' he quietly asked. 'Then how come we know so much about each other?'

'I think this whole trip has shown us that we know less than we think.'

'No, not that. I mean... habits, tastes, quirks.'

'Oh, that. That's because we've been forced to live together more often than can be healthy for anyone.'

'And it didn't make us friends? If I dropped dead tomorrow, you wouldn't come to my funeral?'

'The whole office would come to your funeral and most of them would lie about how well they always thought of you, what's your point?'

Her refusal to see his point annoyed Draco. 'Fine,' he gritted out. 'Maybe we define the word differently.' He paused, knitting his brows together. He was back to having to somehow fix her misconception from earlier without any kind of help from her. 'I don't view you as a witch,' he then said.

Her breath hitched just enough for him to glance up at her, but she remained indifferent-looking. 'What a shocker,' she replied, turning another page. He'd bet anything that she hadn't even read the previous one.

'I mean, I don't see you as a woman,' he amended. 'I mean--'

'I think you should stop before you dig a hole you can't get out of,' she advised in a slightly strained voice whilst not as much as glancing away from her book.

Draco groaned. 'I _mean_ , I just disassociate you from your bits to make things easier. I view you as completely sexless.'

'Well, thanks to you, I have been,' she drily replied.

He ignored that part. 'I didn't know it made you uncomfortable. I thought it would make you more uncomfortable if...' He shrugged. 'Imagine how oddly you'd feel if I acted as if it were real.'

'I think it's more about how oddly _you_ would feel,' she corrected him. 'And, anyway, it's not an issue. I already said I'm over it.'

'Until next time. What happens next time?'

'I'll remember that you'd rather see me as a monkey than risk getting a stiffy.'

Draco groaned. Couldn't she _not_ be so blunt? 'You're impossible!'

'No,' she corrected him. 'I'm actually quite easy. Isn't that what you keep saying?'

There really was no talking to her when she was in this kind of mood, so Draco turned his back on her and went to sleep instead, hoping she at least wouldn't leave bruises in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione was sitting in the living area, reading, when Draco finally made a--very dishevelled--appearance. She didn't deign to say good morning.

She was still annoyed that he hadn't simply respected that she was over his implied slur. It wasn't like it was any great surprise that he was a bigoted arse. He had always been a bigoted arse. He wasn't nice and she didn't like him. The only new thing was that she wasn't sure she could trust him any longer.

Trust was probably the single most important thing to Hermione and had been ever since the war. Trust made all the difference between life and death, suffering and salvation.

He stopped halfway to the kitchen area to give her a puzzled look and scratch his head. 'How far gone was I?' he asked in his hoarse morning-voice, before clearing his throat.

She raised her eyebrows. 'I don't know? As far as always, I suspect.'

'But I _usually_ wake up when you hit me,' he muttered, now scratching his chest. She seriously hoped he didn't plan on scratching any areas below that in front of her.

'I didn't hit you,' she coldly said. She had abandoned her morning ritual of battering him with her pillow in order to enjoy a nice, quiet morning all by herself. And she had. It was well past noon by now.

He stared at her. 'You have a strange idea of punishment,' he then said, shaking his head and disappearing into the kitchen, where she heard him helping himself to a glass of water.

Punishment? He thought she was punishing him?

Why would she punish him? If she felt the need to punish him, it would mean she cared. She didn't.

He would rot before she'd bother to punish him.

* * *

Draco lay on the couch, openly staring at Hermione, who was ignoring him in favour of yet another book. It had been this way for hours now. For someone who adamantly claimed she was _not_ mad and _not_ punishing him, she certainly made a good impression of giving him the silent treatment.

It was so typically female that it almost made him laugh. He knew that Hermione hated most feminine stereotypes, but she certainly fit them well enough sometimes.

'So, what's for dinner?' he casually asked.

She looked up and blinked. 'What?'

'Dinner?'

'You want _me_ to cook?'

'Yeah, that would be nice. It's been either my cooking or that awful Muggle take-out food all week and--' he glanced at the window '--it's still pouring down, so I'm not volunteering to go get more of that.'

'Fine,' she said with a shrug. 'I think we still have cereal.'

'But we're out of milk again.'

'That's really not my problem.'

'You know, Granger, for someone who's not mad, you're remarkably bitchy.'

'And for someone who's not suicidal, you're remarkably annoying!'

He flashed her a grin, which she completely ignored. 'I'm not going to keep saying it, Granger,' he then said.

'Keep saying what?'

'You've been telling me for ages that I'm a prude. Why would my prudish behaviour now suddenly be a personal insult to you?'

She barely looked up from that damned book. 'Oh, that's what we're on about. I repeat--It's not; I'm over it.'

Draco got to his feet, finally feeling fed up with her pouting. 'But you're not! If we go home like this, you're going to get me fired!'

She blinked, still not looking up. 'What? Of course I won't!'

'You heard Potter,' he said. 'Either we get along or we get fired. You may have some sort of immunity, but I most certainly don't. If I lose this job, I'll...'

Now Hermione looked up. 'You'll what?'

'I'll have nothing,' he dully replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. There it was, the sad and pathetic truth. He had nothing in his life to be excited about except his work, and he was depending on her not to lose it.

'That's not what I heard,' Hermione said. 'I heard that you have enough money to retire, and didn't you recently buy some cosy little cottage in Wales?'

Draco waved his hand irritably. 'What good is money when it can't buy you anything you actually want? And I sold that damn cottage again; it wasn't me who wanted it. It was a stupid spur-of-the-moment thing.'

'Money could buy you time to pursue what you do want,' Hermione said, looking down at her book again.

Having had it, Draco took a few long steps over and snatched the book from her hands. 'What I _want_ is this job. Why doesn't anybody understand that?'

She reached for the book, but he held it away from her, and she narrowed her eyes. 'No, what you _want_ is for something to replace your dead girlfriend,' she coldly said.

He could have hit her just then. With remarkable self-control, he threw the book onto a nearby table and said, 'No, I want this damn job. Unlike the rest of you, I know what never knowing feels like. I don't want that to happen to anyone else.'

'You never cared about anyone but yourself, Draco, and now you expect me to believe that you want to help others?'

He clenched his jaw and glared at her. Sometimes she really made him want to forget that he didn't hit women. Not even women who could probably kick his arse. 'It makes _me_ feel better to solve murder cases, all right? I like knowing that if I had had someone like me, then maybe Asteria's death wouldn't have been so carelessly handled!'

That seemed to get through to her, because her facial expression softened. 'I'm sure they did everything they could.'

'No, they didn't,' he bit out. 'They refused to listen to me. I _told_ them that she hadn't gone willingly, that she wasn't with someone she knew. She'd never have left like that. Not without me. But they refused to consider the option until it was much too late and he'd got away. I found her, and then they suspected _me_. They wasted so much time! She might even have been alive...' His voice broke slightly, so he decided not to finish the sentence. Damn it, but that part always got to him.

Asteria might still have been alive if the Aurors had listened to him right away. They could have found her in time. Her death had been slow. He knew that from the report he'd sought out as soon as he'd finished his training, even though it had meant begging Potter for access to the files. Slow, painful, and terrifying. And lonely. He hadn't been able to get to her and she'd died alone with that sadist.

'You know that we have to go with our instincts,' Hermione quietly said. 'Yes, their instincts might've been wrong, but it was right after the war and--'

'And my fiancée deserved to die and her killer deserved to get away because I'm an ex-Death Eater and the Aurors couldn't be arsed to properly investigate?'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'Fiancée?'

'That doesn't change the scenario, Granger.'

She shook her head. 'No, sorry, I just didn't know that you'd... I mean... you were awfully young, weren't you?'

'It was right,' he bit out. 'It would have been right.'

'Of course,' she said, nodding as if in thought. 'But that was still a long time ago. You can't--'

'Don't try to analyse me again,' he interrupted. 'You're no good at it. Someone close to me died, it was shoddily handled, and I decided I wanted to handle it better for others for the rest of my working life. That's it. If you want to analyse anyone's reasons to be an Auror, please start with Potter.'

'All right,' Hermione conceded, getting to her feet. 'Then I suppose we'd better work harder on becoming better partners.'

* * *

Draco looked pleased. Well, he wouldn't for long. 'So you'll forget that silly notion of yours?' he hopefully asked.

'Yes,' she promised. 'As soon as we sort this.'

'Sort--?' He got that wary look on his face again. Smart boy. Well, she supposed he was technically a _man_ , but somehow whenever she looked at him, she only saw the boy she'd once known. She supposed she was little better than him in that regard. Still, at least she recognised the mental changes, if not the physical.

'We have to do better,' she said, unable to keep the dismay out of her voice.

He nodded, tensing up even as they spoke, and went to the middle of the floor, looking mostly like he was going to his own execution. Obviously he'd figured out what she was talking about. 'I hardly think this is something we can _practice_ , though, so do you intend to be discussing techniques?' He frowned slightly.

Hermione pursed her lips. 'A little bit of both, I guess. Do you need to get drunk first?'

He scowled at the suggestion. 'No.'

'Ok.' Hermione nodded. This was about as easy as she'd thought it would be.

She recognised the awkwardness he was feeling, but she herself was mostly just feeling put out because of his repeated resistance. He acted as if they were still in third year or something. Sooner or later he'd have to grow up.

She slowly moved closer to him. 'It's really not that difficult,' she said. 'When I get too close for comfort, simply close your eyes and pretend I'm whichever witch you wish I were. Anyone in the vicinity will think you're focused on the act.'

'I can't do that,' he replied, shaking his head.

She stopped a couple of steps away from him. 'Why not?'

'It's just... I can't. Picturing someone else is really not something that works for me. I'm always very aware of who I'm with. Believe me, I've tried.'

Oh, wasn't that a load of praise?

'It's not only with you,' he hurried to add. 'Either I'm with the person I'm with or I'm... not.'

'You lack the imagination,' Hermione concluded.

He shrugged a bit awkwardly. 'I guess?'

She nodded and stepped up to him, putting her hands on his shoulders and reaching up, but then sighed irritably and backed down without doing anything else.

'What?' he asked, sounding confused.

'You just made your first mistake,' she said.

'I didn't move at all!'

'That's a mistake in itself. If we go into a town and expect people to think that we're somehow together and it's a _happy_ union, you need to be less passive.'

'I didn't think that applied here,' he muttered.

'Why do you think I'm doing this? For fun?' she sharply asked. 'But even if it didn't apply here, you _still_ did it wrong. You drew back.'

'I did not!'

'Yes, you did! Your back stiffened and you drew away from me.'

She stared him down until he looked away. 'I didn't mean to!' he said.

'What's _with_ you?' she angrily asked. 'You're supposed to be a grown man of almost thirty, yet you act as if you're afraid of my _cooties_!'

He didn't reply.

'If you're not even going to try--'

'What do you want from me, Granger?' he sneered. 'I'm trying, ok? It's hard to unlearn almost two decades of instinct in five minutes.'

'Maybe we should wait with this until we get back,' she suggested. She might as well admit defeat when it was obvious he wasn't going to let go of the disgust he felt towards her as a person. 'Look into potions and such that would make it easier,' she continued, honestly not really caring about this any longer. Her _partner_ had just proven that he was too repelled by her to even play pretend--how could she even consider going on more cases with him? 'Or brainstorm,' she blathered on, 'to come up with a list of other covers to choose from. If worst came to worst, we could just reject the cases that--'

'No!' he said very firmly. 'I won't be rejecting any cases. We can make a list of covers, but we both know that lovestruck and looking to impress your significant other is often the easiest way to explain away odd scenarios, not to mention that it's the one they're most likely to believe. And I can't rely on potions forever.'

No, he couldn't. Usually, it wouldn't be a big problem, really. Hermione had refrained from smooching many a male Auror with a jealous wife or girlfriend at home, but the underlying issue here was what would be the death of their partnership. Hermione refused to put her life in the hands of someone who seemed to think he'd get a deadly disease from inadvertendly touching her.

She sighed. 'You're simply not capable of letting go; it won't work.'

'Kissing is just something I consider personal,' he insisted. 'I'll learn to get over it.'

'You've had this job seven years, I don't think--'

'I never had much reason to try before, ok?'

Hermione stopped arguing to think for a bit. Feelings of betrayal aside, he seemed to genuinely want to try. She held little hope that he'd change his mind about her at this point, but maybe that didn't mean she should stop trying to change it. How else was she going to change the world if not one bigot at a time? 'It's just the kissing, then?' she asked. 'Lips against lips?'

He regarded her suspiciously. 'What are you thinking about?'

She shrugged. 'I was only thinking that there might still be a shot.'

* * *

Draco warily eyed Hermione as she once again stepped up to him, this time carefully running her hands down his chest and stomach to his waistband and then back up to snake around his neck.

'Good,' she muttered. 'You didn't even flinch.'

Well, no. It was only a touch, albeit a fairly prolonged one. Did she have a point?

She threaded the fingers of her one hand through his hair and softly tugged, baring one side of his neck. 'You're not supposed to be passive,' she reminded him.

He awkwardly put his hands on her waist. 'I'm not sure what we're doing any more,' he told her honestly.

She merely smiled without any humour or happiness. 'You dislike me near your face, so I'm trying out a theory.' She tightened the hold on his hair, and ran the fingers of her other hand down his neck.

It was a little odd and he'd much rather she didn't touch him like that, but so far he could live with it.

She pulled him down a little towards her and at the same time went up on her toes, to press her lips against the spot at the base of his neck where his pulse was strongest.

He tried his best not to squirm with unease. It was a rather sensitive spot she'd chosen, and normally that would be too personal as well.

'I don't know,' she muttered against his neck, and then she flicked out her tongue before giving him a light nibble. When he didn't push her away, she hesitated, before sucking slightly--it wasn't forceful enough to give him a love bite, but it did bring the blood rushing and--

He pushed her away, a light blush spreading on his cheeks.

He was barely aware that he'd done it before after the fact. It had just-- She had just-- He had suddenly become extremely uncomfortable.

She shook her head at him. 'It's no good.'

'I thought there was progress!' he argued.

'The very fact that you thought that only proves how badly we're off.'

'Come on, give it another go,' he coaxed.

'I don't enjoy being rejected, even if it's only by you, so I'm going to give it a pass,' she calmly said. 'I'm sorry, Draco. If it's any consolation, I _really_ don't think Harry means to fire you for something as minor as this. As long as we marginally get along, it'll be fine. Plenty of Aurors have other covers rehearsed that they can choose from instead. I mean, not everyone's spouses like the idea of their husband or wife snogging their partner when they're out.'

'Wait!' Draco took a deep breath and then took a step forward. He needed to get past this. He couldn't let such a stupid block dictate his life. Besides, he knew she was lying to his face right now. Not about there being other options in general, but about being willing to try those other options with him. He could see it written all over her face. If they'd been going out with each other, he'd say she was sporting her let's-break-up face. Not good.

'It's fine,' she said, seeming to misunderstand. 'I will choose to believe that it's not my blood status doing it and it won't be an issue.'

He knew that was a lie as well. She very clearly thought it was her blood, which was absurd since he'd actually been _seeing_ a Muggle-born for a few weeks a couple of years back. Without replying, he clenched his teeth and cradled her face in one hand whilst placing the other hand on her waist again. So far, so good. She looked most of all patient. And sad. The don't-even-bother-because-it's-over face.

This was a witch who probably put a lot of her self-worth into appealing to men, and he'd shown and _told_ her time and again that she didn't appeal to him, not even bothering to consider that she might take it to heart in a rather unfortunate way. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did, and he couldn't allow that mistrust to fester because then it _would_ get him fired. He finally understood that snogging had nothing to do with it, really. It was all about how she thought he saw her and how that would destroy their partnership if he didn't attempt to stop it.

It wasn't her looks that he objected to. He'd never even assessed her looks. She was... Hermione Granger. He knew her so well that he didn't see her. He'd had no reason to be looking. For instance, he'd never noticed how full her lips were, or how thick her eyelashes. He'd also never really given much thought to the hint of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her hair had been a constant source of mockery on his end for years, but to be honest, it really wasn't bad at all. Her hair curled, certainly, but she'd managed it quite well, and it was mostly big and frizzy if the weather was humid or she was stressing and making it untidy by running her hands through it over and over.

Her eyes were probably her prettiest feature. They were a rich brown, and in spite of her intellect and her at times disillusioning work, they managed to look innocent and vulnerable most of the time. They didn't look like the eyes of someone who didn't want anything but sex from a bloke. Either she was lying or she was a world-class deceiver. He couldn't believe that she was a deceiver, he simply couldn't. He'd trusted those eyes so many times and to have that be a lie was simply unthinkable. He needed to believe that he could look into them and see the truth, because if he couldn't... what would be left?

Thank God he didn't have to notice anything below the neckline.

'You're not actually bad-looking,' he murmured, either trying to reassure her or steel himself; he wasn't sure which.

She didn't roll her eyes or snort or push his hand away, but simply gave him a dull look. 'I know that, you dimwit,' she said.

He bent and placed his lips on hers. Hesitantly at first, and unsure what could be achieved by this, but just kissing her like she was any other witch to be kissed.

She remained passive. How ironic.

He supposed he had to do better to convince her and settle this stupid argument forever.

He carefully parted her lips with his own, feeling a disturbing kind of stirring in his belly as he tasted the moist hotness that was her mouth. It wasn't quite nausea, but it was a very uncomfortable feeling. Damn it, how far did he have to go? Didn't she realise that he hadn't had sex in a very long time and could be in danger of forgetting everything but soft lips, sweet breath and a nice, soft bottom... wait, when had his hand gone there? And, Merlin, he was pressing her against him! He could feel every curve as it moulded to his body. It felt delicious. He hadn't had a woman pressed against him like that in so long and he was afraid he could forget who the woman was--and not in the way she'd advised him to, but in a way that only led to disaster. He didn't want to use and disrespect his partner like that. He didn't want the awkwardness that would arise when she realised that he might want to.

His immediate urge was to shove her away in panic, but he suppressed it. Another shove would cement her belief, and if he lost her as a partner... He couldn't. He honestly had never thought he would have to save their partnership with a bloody snog. If he'd known, he'd probably have chosen to do it at a time when he was less frustrated, but he didn't suppose she could wait for that.

Carefully, he broke the kiss and lifted his head, looking down at her. Her eyes had a slightly dazed quality to them, her cheeks were a faint pink, and her lips were darker, moist and swollen. He stared at them as if transfixed.

She blinked a few times and then gave a short, throaty laugh. 'There, was that so--' 

He never allowed her to finish the sentence.

He might as well be thorough whilst he was at it, after all. They couldn't have any lingering suspicions remain.

* * *

Before Hermione knew what had happened, she found herself backed up against a wall. Whoa! What was this? Was he trying to see how long he could endure or something? Attempting to burn out the distaste by immersing himself in the offending act?

Shrugging it off, she decided she didn't care. She'd always appreciated a good snog, and this did serve a purpose--whatever that purpose was--after all. Also, it felt really nice. He was quite apt at finding all those little sensitive spots that made her shiver with pleasure. Maybe this could tide her over for a bit.

She didn't know what he was doing to get past whatever had him shove her away before, but she approved. Maybe he'd found a good fantasy, after all? The kiss made her almost wish it were real, so she could feed her starving libido. Remembering seeing Draco naked just a few days ago, watching his face as he orgasmed, did nothing to deter this. All Aurors were in good shape, and Malfoy was tall and lean with broad shoulders that simply begged for someone to hold onto them. If he hadn't been such a disinterested git, she might have tried to start something casual ages ago. Seeing him completely naked, seeing to his own needs, and now being on the receiving end of this searing kiss? Well! She would need some serious alone time after this.

He grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up, and she was compliant, wrapping her legs around him, but confused about how far exactly he was going to take this. Then he pushed his hips forwards, connecting with the soft spot between her legs, and she gasped, completely blindsided by the lovely hardness pressing against her. Maybe this wouldn't be a sexless trip anyway. If he was willing to bury that inside her, she certainly wasn't going to put up a fight.

'I know,' he moaned against her neck. 'I wish I was drunk.'

That cooled her ardour and left her feeling stupid. For a brief second, she had actually forgotten that he was forcing himself to do this. 'No one made you go this far,' she said a little shakily, resenting him for doing just that, leading her on. What was he proving, anyway? That she was "easy"? Well, he could consider it proven if he wanted to, she didn't care. At least she wasn't some prissy tease like he was. She certainly didn't hurt people by making them feel wanted and then denying them what they needed in the very heat of the moment. Well, ok, maybe she'd started something she'd never finished with Jack, but he'd talked it to death long before she'd decided to go, and she'd never started out intending to play with him like that.

'But I have no excuse for this to happen,' he continued. 'None. If I'd been drinking, I could blame bad judgement and loss of impulse control and go on.' He slowly lifted his head. 'I don't want to stop, Hermione. I...' His voice trailed off and he shook his head. 'I shouldn't be doing this. But you feel good and I haven't... I haven't... been with anyone like that in a very long time...' He closed his eyes, leaning his hands on the wall, leaving her to either hold on to him or slide down to her feet. He muttered, 'This is why kissing your partner is a bad idea.'

It took her a second to decide, and then she slid down, making him groan as she rubbed against him. If he _did_ want her, then what was the problem? 'Why do you need excuses?' she asked. 'Why can't you simply enjoy yourself and do what you want?'

'There are some things one shouldn't want,' he ground out. 'You fall in that category. This is what I was afraid could happen if I allowed it to.'

'You were afraid you might want me?' she asked, unsure whether that was a compliment.

'Sex complicates matters. I never wanted to want anyone at work. Did you miss the part where my boss never liked me and wouldn't be sad to see me leave?'

'You're paranoid,' Hermione said, crossing her arms in front of herself, grabbing the edges of her shirt, and pulling it over her head. 'You began your training a decade ago. I'm quite certain Harry has had plenty of excuses to get rid of you since, if that's what he wanted.'

Draco's eyes had flown open at the motion and he stared at her. 'What are you doing?'

'You got me worked up, so now I'm going into the bedroom to do something about it, whether you're joining me or not.'

His face got a pained look. 'Now you're being evil.'

'You're complicating matters that really are very simple. Who cares if we sleep together? What matters is that both are willing and understand it's only sex.'

'And you're willing?' he hoarsely asked.

'That surprises you? After all your digs about my sleeping around?' She began unbuttoning her trousers, noticing how he tensed and refused to look down.

'Yes, _because_ of those digs. Don't tease me, Hermione. Don't make this ugly. We don't need more reasons to fight.'

She pushed her trousers down and got up on the tip of her toes to whisper in his ear, 'I'm not like you. I'm not a tease. If you follow me, I'll only fight you if that's what you really want...' Then she ducked under his arm and sauntered into the bedroom.

* * *

Draco stared after Hermione. Just stared.

Well. That had got out of hand quick.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know what to think. If only his body would calm down for a second so he could _hear_ his own thoughts!

But how could it, when she was in there, waiting for him, pleasuring herself...?

He shouldn't join her. He really shouldn't. He tried hard to get a grip on himself. He had two options: Wank a lot or sleep with her. Obviously he had to choose the first one, because... because... because he couldn't sleep with a fellow Auror, damn it! Especially not the one who was almost always assigned to be his partner. Sex complicated things. Sex brought other things like... like jealousy, hurt, awkwardness, fighting, mistrust. There was no such thing as "just sex" between two people that had to be around each other on a daily basis. He had to be reasonable and do the right thing here. He had to preserve his way of life. He couldn't throw everything away, merely because he was too randy to check himself.

But she'd worn black lace knickers and a red lace bra and he wanted to remove both with his teeth so badly that he was physically shaking.

This was crazy. It was illogical. He'd seen Hermione's bloody underwear before, and it had never really elicited any kind of response. Certainly not any response that couldn't be quickly reined in. Now, however, he was breaking into a cold sweat merely thinking about what might lie underneath, what it might feel like in his hands and in his mouth...

He'd _seen_ her damn breasts one time. Well, breast. But he assumed one was much like the other. It had been an accident that he'd walked in on her before she was fully dressed and he'd walked straight out again, without having any kind of response that he could recall, so why suddenly this?

He had to assume it was the context. 

Fact: he hadn't had sex in almost a year.   
Fact: forcing himself to think of her as a woman and enjoying her as such had bit him in the arse.   
Fact: he was going home to a cold bed.   
Fact: Hermione was experienced and she would make it good-- _very_ good, if so far was any indication.   
Fact: he was pathetic and horny and lonely and even if he didn't do this, he would probably end out at some seedy bar within the week, easing some of the desperation.

But then there was the other side of the coin. 

Fact: she was one of Potter's best mates, and tangling with her could easily get him fired.   
Fact: in spite of the bickering, he sort of liked and respected her and didn't know how to use someone like her just for sex.   
Fact: he didn't want to risk losing his partner, even if he could still keep his job.   
Fact: this wasn't what he wanted and only a fraction of what he needed.

He lowered his head on his arms, closing his eyes, and then opening them again on a frown, glaring down at his trousers. 'Would you stop being so damn insistent?' he muttered at the offending bulge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Hello? Anybody here?' a very familiar and most beloved voice called out. 
> 
> Ron! Hermione dropped everything and pushed past Draco to run out into the arms of her dearest friend, squeezing him tight and giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. He was _exactly_ what she needed right now to make this stupid hurt feeling go away.
> 
> 'Whoa, there,' Ron said, laughing. 'Has it been that bad? Harry was worried you might have killed each other.'


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione stretched out on top of the bed, considering whether Draco was actually going to come and join her. She ended up deciding that, yes, he would. He could be as stubborn as any spoiled prat was wont to be, but he didn't actually have a very strong will. He just needed time to talk himself into it.

And if he didn't decide to come into the bedroom and alleviate some of her tension, she had brought some really interesting toys she could use. All Muggle, of course, since she wasn't supposed to use magic here, but that wasn't going to lessen her fun with them. She might even "forget" to put them back afterwards, simply to see his face when he came across them and realised exactly what he'd missed.

She would love to see his face as he discovered her toys. Even more so when he slowly worked out that she'd probably brought them before and _used_ them too. She could vividly imagine him trying to work out exactly when and how she'd been using them without him discovering it. Fun!

The door slammed open to reveal a scowling Draco, who immediately began pulling off his jumper, his movements almost angry. Hermione quirked an eyebrow, but didn't comment. She suspected that angry sex with Draco Malfoy just might be worth it. Besides, he was always put out with her and vice versa.

'Let's be clear on some rules,' he said, already in the process of unbuttoning his trousers.

Hermione pursed her lips, somewhat amused. 'I didn't know you were into that kind of play,' she teased.

He looked unamused. 'If I should accidentally touch you whilst we sleep, you will not attack me.'

She nodded. 'Fair enough.'

He shot her an annoyed look. 'And whilst we're in that bed, you'll be more respectful towards me than you usually are.'

'And if we should roll out of it?' she cheekily asked.

Having freed himself of all but his underwear, he growled and launched at her, pinning her down. 'I'm serious,' he hissed. 'I don't want you to keep insulting me. It's difficult enough as it is.'

Difficult? That sobered Hermione. 'All right,' she quietly said. 'I'll play nice. But you don't have to do this if you don't want to. We could pretend tonight never happened.' Against her better judgement, she was struggling not to try to seduce him regardless. She knew she _shouldn't_ want to sleep with him if he didn't truly want to, but she needed someone to touch her, and, well, she thought she might like him doing it. Even if he was angry. Or maybe especially if he was angry.

'You think I'd be here if there was any way for me to say no?' he whispered, and then his lips were on hers, harshly demanding a response from her.

He got his response, of course. She'd been waiting for him to come in here. She hadn't quite expected him to tell her that he didn't want to _after_ he'd already given in, but she could live with that. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd substituted for someone else or merely been a random body and, besides, all she wanted was a warm-blooded male between her legs. _Any_ warm-blooded male. His motivations didn't matter; the outcome was the same.

She slid her arms around his neck and pushed against him, especially enjoying the feel of his chest against hers. She'd seen his chest so many times without ever imagining this. Clearly, that had been an unforgivable lack of imagination on her part.

His one hand snuck around her back, and with a minimal amount of awkwardness, he unhooked her bra.

'Impressive,' she commented, unable to help herself.

'Ex made me practice after one memorable evening of bra-related injuries,' he murmured against her lips.

Hermione did her best not to laugh. 'Hers or yours?'

Draco shot her a quirky smile. 'After all was said and done, both.'

Hermione giggled because she couldn't help herself, and she didn't even pretend to have a modesty attack as he revealed her breasts. But then he stared at her chest and just kept staring for so long she began feeling self-conscious. She resented him for that. Her body was fine, thank you very much. She did her best to keep everything in the right place and in good working order, and nobody had ever had any complaints! 'You can't insult me either,' she said, but then immediately also resented having said that. It implied she cared. She didn't.

He finally looked up. 'You think it's an insult when a man stares at you, Granger?'

'Depends on how he does it,' she muttered.

'I was only considering how to best ask you if you had any Muggle protection with you, or if you'd allow me to use a spell, because if not, we're going to need more rules.'

'I'm protected,' she replied. 'Against everything you could possibly imagine and a few things I'm certain you can't.' She was even using multiple protections, simply because she didn't trust either the spells or her implant to never ever fail her. Some things were _not_ worth the risk.

'You certain?'

She shot him an annoyed glance. Of course she was certain! It would be damn irresponsible of her not to be. She liked her flings uncomplicated. Unprotected sex was about as complicated as it got. That was one complication she didn't need to face in her life again. He didn't actually seem to be implying anything with it, but he should still have taken her word for it. She wasn't some random bird he'd picked up at a pub; they'd known each other almost all of their lives! Why would she lie about something like this? She wasn't that irresponsible! If he kept this up, she was going to make him wear a Muggle condom too! 

She opened her mouth to tell him all this and more, when he held up a hand, enough of a mind reader to know what was coming and enough of a git to be amused. 'Hey, just checking. Stop glaring at me like that.' He kissed her again, and then slowly ran his lips down her neck to her right breast, which he began teasing by leisurely stroking it with his tongue. Still feeling a little angry, she threaded her fingers through his hair, grasping fistfuls, but he didn't seem in any great hurry to move it along. Her lower belly was knotted so tightly that she felt like it would never un-knot again. Regardless of anger, she needed to come so badly. It felt like it had been ages since she'd been with a man and she was quite frankly half out of her mind with need.

'That's enough,' she rasped, catching him unawares as she flipped him on his back. 'I prefer to be on top.' She straddled him and ran her hand down his chest, squeaking when she was almost immediately flipped back with his hands tightly grabbing her wrists in case she should try anything again.

'I bet you do,' he replied. 'But tonight you're doing things my way.'

'What? Missionary position?' she asked, wrinkling her nose. She didn't really mind missionary, but it figured that that would be all he was into. What a waste of good potential.

'Doesn't it get tiring to always be the one on top?' he asked, lowering his head.

'I'm not always on top. But I could ask you the same thing.'

'Are you telling me,' he muttered, in between nibbling at her neck in a most distractive manner, 'that those blokes you find, wherever you find them, don't do things exactly like you tell them to? I find that hard to believe. You're a force of nature, Granger.'

'I don't always tell them that I want to be on top,' she said rather breathlessly, as her ability to think was rapidly disappearing. 'On top is when I'm afraid they'll come too soon or--' _or I need to come as soon as possible_.

His head whipped up and he pinned her with a glare. 'I thought I told you not to insult me!'

She blinked. Well, if he'd only let her finish the sentence! She grinned, feeling wicked, and decided that he could keep his misconceptions. 'If I'd wanted to insult you, I'd have suggested you take me from behind.'

'And why's that?'

'That's the position I prefer for... smaller... men. You know, below average.' She managed to free one wrist and held up a couple of fingers to show an exaggerated short length.

His brow knitted as he was trying to figure her out.

She decided to clarify. 'They enter me deeper like that, plus they can more easily make it worth my while by touching me...' She carefully freed the other wrist and ran one hand down between her legs to fondle her knickers, whilst squeezing one of her breasts with the other. It was both to show a point and to ease some of the aching. Merlin, she needed him to take her soon or she'd go mad! The hand down between her legs inadvertently brushed against his erection through his boxers and he groaned. Seemed like she wasn't the only one.

'And the ones that aren't too small or too quick?' he asked in a strained voice.

She shrugged as well as she could whilst lying under a man, touching herself. 'They get a vote on how they want it, I suppose.'

He bent down to whisper in her ear. 'I want you under me.'

Defiantly, she slipped her hand inside her knickers, and closed her eyes on a shaky sigh. She could feel his entire body stiffen above her. Suppressing a smile, she continued to play with herself, drawing out the sweet pain.

She needed a nice, hard cock inside her like she'd needed nothing before.

He moved and there was a slight rustle of clothes being removed, followed by a tug at her knickers. Oh, yes. She eagerly lifted her hips to help him get them off. After he had removed them, his hands again moved up her legs and thighs, moving to her inner thighs and-- she squirmed as his hands disappeared. _Such_ a tease.

'Open your eyes,' he said, his voice hoarse with strain.

Reluctantly, she did.

He placed his one hand on her thigh very, very close to where she wanted to be touched. 'I'm on top,' he calmly said. 'You don't call the shots with me.'

'Fine,' she gritted out, desperate for him to proceed. She didn't care what position they were in, as long as they were in any position that gave her what she wanted.

He softly touched her just right and she moaned and thrust her hips up, seeking more.

'I don't think we have to be afraid that I'll embarrass myself before you get off,' he said, smirking.

'Only because I almost got myself off before you even came in here,' she retorted. That wasn't exactly true, but she could either be defensive or whimper for more. Normally she wouldn't mind whimpering, but she knew Draco well enough to know that it would make him insufferable for ages.

His answer to that was a predictably annoyed glare. 

'Tell me you want me to fuck you,' he suddenly demanded, making her eyes widen in surprise. This was something she'd far from expected. Draco hated it when she used coarse language, which largely was why she usually did around him. Who knew he'd be completely opposite in bed? There was a chance it wasn't a common thing, though. It could be that he simply felt extra naughty, considering that he was about to screw someone he'd considered off-limits for decades. 

Or maybe he felt extra dirty for screwing her.

She pushed that thought aside.

Still, the thought of what else he might be into had her almost melting into a highly aroused puddle. 'I want you to fuck me, please,' she replied, this time unable to keep a slight whimper from her voice. The sheer impact of talking like this to _him_ was tremendous. Maybe letting him feel like he was in charge wasn't such a bad thing, after all. She could deal with him being insufferable. After all, hadn't she already dealt with that for two decades?

'Hard and fast or slow and easy?' he asked, his eyes boring into hers.

She could barely make the words come out. 'H-hard. Please, Draco. Take me hard.'

* * *

Draco suppressed a groan and the shiver threatening to run visibly through him. She already thought he was going to blow it like a teenager, it would do no good to prove to her how almost right she was. He doubted she would have mercy on him just because it had been months. Witches like Hermione only gave you one shot and if they didn't like your efforts... well, too bad.

He couldn't blow his shot and still look her in the eyes at work.

Fortunately, she seemed to be almost mindless, needing release. And she wanted it fast and hard, which was also fortunate, because he didn't think he could go slow once he got started. And being gentle... it would have been very hard for him to be focused enough for that.

Why had he never noticed how passionate she was before? It was as if he didn't know her at all.

'Please,' she whispered. 'Don't wait. I'm ready. Don't need foreplay.'

He slid his fingers down between her legs and swiftly entered her with two of them. She gasped and arched up against him. Yes, she was ready. Ready and responsive like he would never have dreamed. Her hips began gyrating against his hand, and he pushed his fingers in deeper, twisting them slightly and pushing when he felt the right spot.

She made a surprised exclamation. 'Why, M-Malfoy,' she gasped. 'For someone prudishly prudish who's only ever slept with prudes, you certainly do know the basics.'

It wasn't _in_ bed he couldn't keep his girlfriends happy. Sex was the easy part. He would forgive her the insult, though, since the way she was squirming made him suspect that she was only a hair's breadth away from orgasming. He bent down to whisper in her ear, 'Do you want me inside you or not?' Fat chance that he would even be able to stop himself by now.

'Yes. Hard and fast,' she muttered, running her hands down his back to grasp his bum and pull him towards her. 'Now.' It was phrased as a command but was really little more than a whimper.

He couldn't resist; he removed his hand and surged forward, entering her completely in one thrust. She cried out in surprised pleasure, and he had to grab hold of the sheets to try and channel some of the intensity elsewhere, so he could remain in control. Merlin, it felt good. She was hot and wet and soft and _tight_ , squeezing him rhythmically, as her hips were moving against him again. He was hanging on by a thread.

'More...' She squirmed more insistently under him.

He couldn't help the shuddering groan escaping from his lips. It just felt so _good_ to be inside her, to be inside someone warm and willing once again. Clenching his jaw, he began moving--hard and fast as she'd requested. It had been too long, it really had. He was almost blinded and deafened by the intensity of the need pouring through him.

This would go much too fast for his liking. He wouldn't truly have a chance to enjoy it before-- he clenched his fists harder in the sheets and bent down to breathe in her heat and her scent, never letting up on his thrusts.

Warm. Willing. Passionate.

He felt her orgasm building beneath him. Felt her mindlessly grabbing at him, throwing her legs around him, clawing to find an anchor to hold her steady through this vortex inside her. She was babbling something incoherent, that might have been, ' _Don't stop, please don't stop_ '--as if he could ever stop. Then she tensed, going quiet except for the occasional broken gasp and moan. He went harder, faster, and then... it was all around him, tensing, squeezing, throbbing. He was vaguely aware that she made some sounds as she climaxed, but he was too intent on riding this out, on getting as much of it as he could before he couldn't hold back any longer, to pay much notice.

She whispered his name and somehow it broke through his haze. He looked up, and she kissed him deeply, stroking his tongue with hers. It sent a jolt through his already oversensitised system, and he tried to draw back, but it was too late. He couldn't resist the pull of her sexuality and with a low moan, he thrust deep and came hard.

* * *

Hermione slowly woke, feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. She yawned, and attempted to stretch, only to feel constricted by something warm behind her, around her, limiting her movement.

Oh. Right. 

Malfoy's still naked body was fully pressed up against hers, and she wasn't completely sure what to do about that. She'd promised not to beat him, after all. He shifted a bit in his sleep, and she felt what she assumed to be his morning erection pressed against her.

She debated a bit what to do. On the one hand, the sex had been very intense and pleasurable, and she wouldn't really mind going for another round. If she hadn't been so exhausted last night after the first round, she might have initiated another one right then and there. On the other hand, the sun was up and Draco was the sort who'd appreciate boundaries. Last night was last night and this morning was... well, hopefully the day they heard from the Ministry.

It was always a pity to let a good erection go to waste, but there really wasn't anything to be done for it. With a sigh, she got up and went out to wash and get dressed, only returning to wake him when completely clothed and brushing her teeth--she had to have some fun in life, didn't she?

'Rise and shine,' she cheerfully said, pulling the duvet off him.

His eyes flew open and he gave her a long, disoriented look as he got up on his elbows. He then gazed down his own naked form, as if only just noticing his own state of nudity, before he fell back to stare at the ceiling, groaning. It would be a lie to say his wordless reaction didn't hurt. It did, more than she'd like to admit. And it was such an unfair reaction, too--she'd hardly forced him! Who was he to make her feel bad about what had been a perfectly nice evening of perfectly nice casual sex?

At least she hadn't tried to rouse him with more of it. Now she was rather relieved that she hadn't. She didn't particularly enjoy being coldly rejected the next day. She'd never seen any reason to be mean about not wanting more--especially not when parting amicably was very much an option for achieving the same thing, only with no hurt feelings.

'Look,' she said, drawing his eyes back on her. 'It happened. It was nice. We move on.' She went out to the bathroom to spit and rinse before he could reply. Her hands were shaking a little. Damn it. She'd been dismissed and disrespected the morning after before. It wasn't a huge deal. She would just... pretend nothing had ever happened and hope he got the hint that she really wasn't like the witches he was used to.

He joined her in the bathroom--also fully dressed, she noted--and eyed her hesitantly. 'Look, Hermione...' he began, but before he could get any further, they heard the front door slam.

'Hello? Anybody here?' a very familiar and most beloved voice called out. 

Ron! Hermione dropped everything and pushed past Draco to run out into the arms of her dearest friend, squeezing him tight and giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. He was _exactly_ what she needed right now to make this stupid hurt feeling go away.

'Whoa, there,' Ron said, laughing. 'Has it been that bad? Harry was worried you might have killed each other.'

'No, silly,' she said, swatting his chest. 'I missed you! I haven't seen you for at least a month!'

'Yeah, some of us aren't fortunate enough to get sent off on holidays,' Ron said, and then when Draco appeared in the doorway, he lowered his voice to say, 'Although I don't envy you the company.'

'Do you know if Magical Creatures got our message?' Draco asked, not appearing to make any note of the fact that Hermione and Ron had their arms around each other.

'They did,' Ron replied. 'They're sending their own werewolf tracker to take over the case and you're to report back to Harry.'

'Werewolf tracker?' Hermione asked, frowning. 'Is that a werewolf who tracks, or someone who tracks werewolves?'

'Both, apparently. It's a werewolf who tracks rogue werewolves.'

'If they suspected a werewolf, why didn't they send one of those right away?' Draco was sounding irritable, with good cause.

'Yeah, why didn't they?' Hermione chipped in, narrowing her eyes at Ron.

'I had nothing to do with it,' Ron said, holding up a hand. 'Don't kill the messenger. To be honest, I think Harry was just so fed up with your bickering that he sent you off on the first case he saw on his desk without giving it much thought.'

'Oh, that's mature,' Hermione scoffed. 'Not at all sloppy work.'

'I know. I think he knows too. Play your cards right, you can probably guilt him into giving you the best cases for a while. Are you ready to come back with me? I'll buy you breakfast.'

'Of course! Just let me get my things.' Hermione extricated herself from a male for the second time that morning and went into the bedroom to pack her bag, not making any great effort to be tidy about it. She was finally going home and that was all that mattered! She got her things from the bathroom, dumped them in her bag, and zipped it up. There. All done. She turned around and almost ran into Draco.

'So, what happens now?' he quietly asked.

She shrugged carelessly. 'We go back.' Then she went around him and out to Ron

* * *

Draco sat in his cubicle, idly doodling on the piece of parchment that he was supposed to write his report on, and glancing over at Hermione, who already had several inches of her report done.

Always the swot.

He couldn't believe he'd slept with her. He simply couldn't. It was surreal. If anyone had asked him if he'd ever do that only two days ago, he would have laughed at them. Hell, if anyone had suggested to him that Hermione might like casual sex before they'd gone on this trip, he wouldn't have believed them. Look at her! She looked like a nice, normal witch; someone you'd go out with for a bit and then introduce to your parents (only not really in his case, since his parents still refused to acknowledge any witch not of pure blood)--not someone you picked up for a night of mindless fucking.

Although it had hardly been a whole night. They'd had sex once and it probably didn't say much about either of their stamina that it had almost knocked them right out. She'd gone first, curling up against him for warmth. He _really_ doubted she remembered that part, considering how she didn't usually want that kind of physical proximity, and how she hadn't woken him until she was fully covered and doing something that annoyed him again.

The proximity was probably what had delayed his regret. He should never have touched her. She wasn't supposed to be touched--at least not by him. She was one of _them_ , one of the War Heroes. She lived in a whole different world from him. In her world, the job of Auror was prestigious, whereas in his it was a stain on his family's honour. If that shouldn't have been enough to deter him, then the fact that he liked her--as a highly annoying yet extremely loyal and dependable partner--and that having a one-off with her was just plain _wrong_ should have been. How the hell did you act around someone you liked and admired professionally, who had also given you one of the best orgasms in recent memory, when she preferred to act like nothing at all had happened?

'You're staring, Malfoy,' she hissed without looking up. 'Stop it.'

He didn't respond, but did as she asked, staring down at his blank parchment. Hermione wasn't going to agree to go out with him, even if he should decide he would want her to--which he actually didn't--so why was he even thinking about this? It had been a mistake. One he really wished they hadn't made. _Now_ how was he going to sleep next to her or pretend to snog her without it being awkward?

Sighing, he put his quill to the parchment and began writing. He would have to talk to Potter and he hated that. He could only hope it wouldn't make things difficult for him in other ways.

* * *

'Could I talk to you for a minute?' Harry asked.

Hermione looked up from the file she was adding to, feeling caught. She'd only just come back from doing follow-up on some old case of hers and had hoped to sneak out and home early, cashing in on some of the extra hours she'd put in lately, but obviously that wasn't happening now. 'Of course,' she replied.

'In here.' He nodded towards his office.

Hermione followed him in, feeling extremely puzzled. Harry looked far too serious for this to be casual chit-chat. 'What is it?' she asked, sitting down in a chair whilst Harry leant on his desk.

'We didn't get a chance to talk yet,' Harry said. 'Did it work?'

It. Getting along. Trying to open Draco's eyes to the fact that maybe he was the one who needed to make a few changes in order to get along with people so he could get other partners and not only rely on Hermione all the time.

She looked down at her hands. 'I'm not at all certain it did.'

Harry sighed and went around his desk to sit down. 'I'd feared as much. I honestly don't know what to do about him. He keeps blocking people out, pushing them away. He can't stay on like that.'

'We still have some months left before I leave,' Hermione said. 'I'll try and see if I can kick that rusty old brain of his into gear before then. And, I mean, even if I fail, he'll realise that he'll need new partners soon enough, won't he?' He really wouldn't have many options left once she wasn't there to lean on.

'Maybe sooner than you'd think,' Harry said, looking a bit uncomfortable and shuffling some parchments around. 'I hate having to tell you this, but I'm really running out of options. Malfoy was in here this morning, requesting not to be sent out with you again if I could avoid it.'

That statement hit Hermione like a punch to the gut and she simply sat there, stupidly unable to speak, her whole body frozen with the shock. Seven years of having each other's back, gone. Just like that. Quite ironically, he'd stabbed her from behind.

She had never thought he'd do this no matter how he might feel about what had happened. Hadn't the whole _point_ of why he'd kissed her in the first place been to preserve their partnership for as long as possible?

'It's _really_ going to be difficult to avoid,' Harry continued, not noticing her frozen state. 'I don't go myself that often, what with the kids being so young; Ron is still wary after the coma-incident; and any but the youngest, most inexperienced, of the rest won't fully trust Draco at this point. You're all he's got, so you see how I don't understand why he'd make this request.'

_Because I was stupid enough to think he respected me more than that._

She cleared her throat. 'It's all right, Harry,' she said, her voice shaking a little. 'It's merely a misunderstanding.'

Harry looked up from his parchments, a hopeful expression on his face. 'Really? You're certain? It would make my life tremendously easier if it were.'

'Oh, don't worry,' she said, not bothering to hide the bitterness. 'It is. I'll get it sorted.'

The relief in Harry's eyes was almost palpable. 'Oh, good. I'm really counting on you to adjust his attitude, since I really don't want to sack anyone. Especially not one as competent as him. I simply wouldn't know what to do with half a working Auror.'

Hermione had plenty ideas for what she could do with half an Auror with a bad attitude. And he'd wish he'd had more backup once she was finished with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Maybe you didn't quite do it for me,' she said. She could go after his ego too if he really wanted her to.
> 
> 'That's ridiculous,' he sneered, his vanity wounded. 'I was there, remember? If I'd _done_ it for you any better, you'd have spontaneously combusted.'
> 
> She shrugged. 'It had been a while. And I'd been thwarted a few times. I suppose you were an adequate appendage.'
> 
> '"Adequate appendage"?'
> 
> 'Yes, I needed a cock,' she said without shame. 'You had one; you provided it; the edge was taken off.'
> 
> 'The edge?' His teeth were gritted.
> 
> 'Well, yes. It was only one time, after all. It's ok. It was everything I expected.'
> 
> His eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled insult. 'Next you're going to tell me that you were faking it.'
> 
> She shook her head. 'I didn't, but why do men always assume that as long as the woman has an orgasm, they are sex gods? Even a blind pig finds an acorn once in a while.'


	9. Chapter 9

Draco's request to not be assigned cases with Hermione had been ignored. 

He wasn't terribly surprised since he was aware of his low popularity among the other Aurors, but he simply wished that Potter had taken the hint and not sent him out with Hermione the same _week_. He needed time to forget what had happened. Or he at the very least needed time to process it. Chasing escapees from Azkaban, whilst he was constantly thinking about the taste of her skin, was hardly ideal.

'You know, when they employed Dementors, nobody ever got away,' he absent-mindedly commented, as they were making their way down the deserted road of some tiny wizarding village on the Welsh border.

'Except Sirius Black.'

'Oh. Right. Forgot about him. But this is the third case I can remember personally having since they got rid of them.'

She shrugged and looked away. She'd been uncommonly cold and distant ever since they'd been teamed up again. Maybe the whole situation was getting to her too?

'I think this is it,' he said, stopping in front of the crooked building that was the town pub. Whilst most of the crooked old houses in this village managed to look charming, this one managed to look not only seedy, but downright offensive.

'Right,' Hermione said, smoothing down her casual going-out costume. 'I'm ready.'

Draco eyed her cleavage and frowned. 'You positive this is the best plan?'

'We've already had this discussion! We need to get him alone or risk his accomplices taking us down. We don't know what kind of clientele this place has.'

'Yeah, but--' Draco's gaze flickered as he tried to gather his objections '--what if something happens?'

'Nothing will happen, will it?' she asked, her voice so cold that Draco felt compelled to check for frostbite. 'You have my back, haven't you?' She sounded so completely unconvinced that he couldn't help but stare at her.

'Hermione...'

'Let's just get this over with!'

He hesitated, but then pushed the door open. He did have her back. Nothing would happen. If she didn't mind having the hands of a murderer on her, then so be it.

The room went quiet as they entered. Ah, one of those places. It didn't take long for the people there to dismiss the newcomers with little more than a few wary glances, though.

They went over to a table and sat down. Neither of them had really bothered with disguises, because the fact was that hardly anyone knew what either of them looked like any longer. Even War Heroes were forgotten if they didn't do anything to keep up their fame, and Hermione had been content working behind the scenes and letting Potter dominate the newspapers. Draco himself hadn't simply been content to do so, he'd been happy with the arrangement. The sooner everyone forgot who he was, the better.

Draco ordered something to drink, and Hermione leant forwards, smiling at some bloke who was egg-shaped in the largest sense of the word. From his almost completely bald--apart from a few greasy strands--head down to his big, ugly arse, you could draw the most interesting asymmetrical oval. What ruined the egg image was for the most part his thin-as-sticks arms and legs. Gross. Draco supposed that if Hermione would flirt with that, it wouldn't matter much to her that he was also missing quite a few teeth and what little was left were dirty little stumps.

Having a hard time suppressing his disgust, Draco muttered, 'I don't see him,' only loud enough for her to hear.

'Give it time,' she replied, scanning the room and playing with a lock of her hair as if she were on the prowl.

Flirting was strategically useful in order to signal that they weren't together, but Draco would be damned if he'd make eyes at the dirty old hags in the room. The very thought made him shudder. He did manage to smile at the barmaid, though. She was a bit on the heavy side for his tastes but had pretty enough facial features.

Hermione sniggered. 'I think that bloke over there is eyeing you up.'

Draco followed her nod, anticipating a hostile glare, not at all expecting to see what could only be described as carnal interest. Oh, crap. He even thought he might've seen that wizard before. Draco quickly looked away, his embarrassment colouring his cheeks. 'Mean, Granger.' 

'Don't use my name,' she hissed.

His blush deepened. Caught making a rookie mistake. Not every case required cover names, but they'd decided to be anonymous tonight. Even if their faces had been largely forgotten, their names might still cause unwanted attention in any magical setting. 'Sorry.'

She didn't reply but simply sat scanning the same dozen people present over and over again. 

After a few minutes, it occurred to him that she seemed to be ignoring him. 'I thought you said you wouldn't feel awkward,' he said.

She didn't pretend she didn't understand what he was talking about. 'I don't.'

'Yes, because this is not awkward.'

She turned to look at him for the first time all night, murder in her eyes. 'No, what's awkward is my boss telling me that my partner has gone behind my back to get rid of me.'

Suddenly everything clicked. 'Oh.' Damn that Potter for telling her! This wasn't supposed to happen. He swallowed. 'I didn't mean--'

'You know what?' she cut him off. 'Don't bother with your excuses. I get the message. But you can like it or lump it, team up with me when the job requires--and I _promise_ you that I won't molest you--or try to get along everyone else. If you don't feel _comfortable_ with either of those options, you can resign. Those are currently your only choices. Tough to be you.'

Molest him? What? He frowned, trying to work it out. 'I didn't do it to hurt you.'

'I'm not hurt.' She took a long drink from her glass, a sure sign that she was out of it. When actively looking out for a dangerous convict, she usually never touched alcohol and neither did he. They'd order but they wouldn't drink it. They couldn't afford the slower senses.

'I only needed--' he tried.

'I don't care what you needed,' she interrupted him again. 'I needed to trust you. Congratulations, now I don't. Stabbing someone in the back usually has that effect.'

'Then why are you here?' he very quietly asked.

'I'm doing my job whilst keeping your miserable self in business,' she replied, her voice bitter and jaded. 'Isn't that what I've always done? But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Harry.'

Draco sighed and leant back in his chair. This was all going to hell and fast.

He knew he never should have let anything happen.

* * *

The gall of the prat to think he had the power to hurt her! Hermione refused to consider the fact that he actually had. It didn't matter. The point was that _now_ she was only angry. Livid, even. But unlike him, she wasn't a rubbish partner, and she'd see this through and save his pathetic up-tight arse for the rest of her career as an Auror if that was what it took to prove that she was better than him.

She'd never have gone to Harry to get rid of him without telling him. Ever. She would have talked to him. Like an adult. Like a human being.

'It's not even _about_ you,' he muttered. 'I just need to figure out how to--'

'Shh, he's coming.' Hermione kept an eye on the newcomer. He was their target. Not bad-looking at all, but the fact that he was a cold-blooded killer kind of detracted from his charms.

Draco snapped his jaw shut, but she could feel the tension in him. He was annoyed that she wouldn't let him make excuses. The problem was that certain things were inexcusable. Regretting sleeping with her was fine, but ruining their working relationship over it was not. She should really have refused to work with him again, but if she'd done that, Harry would have been the one losing sleep over it, not Malfoy. She really wanted to punch Malfoy for being such an entitled, clueless git who couldn't care less about being a problem to others. Didn't he realise that Harry cared about _all_ of his Aurors and would find it very upsetting to have to sack even him?

She missed going on cases with Ron. She'd have to see if that couldn't be arranged soon. She missed being with someone who wouldn't fight her, hurt her and betray her. Ok, maybe Ron had done all those things at some point, but not for a long, long time. After they'd patched things up a bit, they'd had the most wonderfully tranquil friendship where they could each just be themselves. She missed letting down her guards, confident that her partner wouldn't hurt her on a whim.

'Snap out of it, Gr--' Draco coughed to cover up that he'd almost used her name again. 'He seems to be going for the barmaid.'

Hermione pouted in the general direction of their mark. 'I think I'm prettier than her. Wait, don't comment on that--I know what you're going to say, and I completely disagree. I am much prettier.'

Draco closed his mouth without saying whatever he'd meant to. 'Soon I'm going to get very tired of being cut off,' he said instead.

'Tough,' she snapped. 'Backstabbers get what's coming to them.'

'I _didn't_ \--'

She got to her feet, adjusting her assets without allowing him a chance to explain. 'I'll try to get him outside. Give us a few minutes, but don't get distracted by your stud over there and take too long.'

'Sure you need me at all?' he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

'No,' she replied. 'But you'd better be there if I do.' Then she sauntered up to their convict with an inviting smile.

It didn't take her many minutes to convince him to follow her out the back for some "fun times". At the eager look on his face, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Outside, she had to endure some slobbering and pawing whilst she tried to make it natural to go for her wand under the guise of needing a protection spell. She shouldn't actually have to attempt a spell, but wouldn't it be nice if Draco came outside only to realise she really hadn't needed him?

She was quickly thwarted, however. 'No,' the wizard growled in what appeared to be his usual tone of voice. Creepy. 'I don't like others casting spells on me. Self-preservation, see? Some bird like you could be out for more than a bloke's knob and that's trouble I don't need.' 

Then he plucked the wand right out of her hand before she could think of anything in-character to prevent it. Damn it! Draco would have a field day with this, even though she would never have let the bugger get it if she hadn't known she was backed up. She was personally more concerned with keeping her cover than attempting to throw a hex before she got tackled or the convict Disapparated, but Malfoy simply loved to use these kinds of things against her. As if her main role wasn't to keep the convict's eyes on her whilst Draco cast the damn spell.

When she caught movement at the corner of her eye, she was more relieved than she wished she would have been. Malfoy hadn't dawdled. Under the pretense of wanting to do a bit of a tease, she danced backwards to come out of the spell's path, but she was barely clear before Malfoy cast _Stupefy_ , narrowly missing her as it hit its mark.

Merlin, couldn't he have given it another two seconds?

She reclaimed the pocketed wand from the _Stupefied_ wizard and mentally dared Draco to comment on the fact that she'd been de-wanded in the first place.

* * *

'I still think it was a stupid plan,' Draco couldn't help but say as he looked down on the frozen surprise on the wizard he'd just felled.

Damn, but Granger had given that evil git a snog for his money. Draco couldn't fathom how she could do that so easily. Did she really not at all mind whoever's hands were on her? That was... No, he couldn't understand it at all.

'Well, it worked, didn't it?' she shot back.

'We could have lured him outside without you having to do that.' Draco's idea had been to start a fight with their target and make him come outside, but Hermione had claimed that the risk of people following to watch was too great. Also, she'd said, she wasn't completely sure she could find it in herself to stop anyone from trouncing Draco. Ha-bloody-ha.

'It was easier,' she merely said.

'And you like easy.' He poked the wizard with a foot.

'Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!' Her angry voice prompted him to look up at her in surprise. What had he done now? 'I'll see you later,' she added, and turned around with a flounce.

'Wait, what?' He was very confused by her dismissal. Weren't they out on a job? 'We need to deliver him to Azkaban tonight!'

'He's _Stupefied_ , and you know the way to Azkaban by yourself. Only one of us needs to sign off on him. Give them my regards.' Then she sauntered inside without as much as another glance back at him.

With a sigh, he bent down to haul the worthless sod to his feet and then clumsily Apparated them both to the drop-off point near Azkaban.

Once the formalities were seen to, Draco was a bit unsure of what to do. He should go home, really, but cases like these always left him with adrenaline pumping, unwilling to go home to his empty house. After considering for a bit whether it would be considered stalking to do so, he went back to check on Hermione. After all, if she was doing something with the egg-man, she'd thank him later if he got her out of there in time.

As it turned out, she wasn't doing anything with the egg-man. In fact, the egg-man was nowhere to be seen. She was, however, flirting rather heavily with a newcomer, a young wizard who looked rather bland in Draco's eyes. The wizard was hanging onto every word Hermione said in a manner that was thoroughly disgusting, and Draco felt an urge to tell them to get a room.

Except, then they most likely would.

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, again unsure what to do. He should probably simply leave her to it. This was what she wanted, after all. Who was he to interfere?

She looked up and spotted him, looking surprised to see him, but then she very pointedly turned her back on him and continued to talk to her wizard.

Something about the way she did this really pissed Draco off. He'd come here to see if she was all right! He took two steps towards her, but then changed his mind and went over to the barmaid. 'Excuse me, do you have anywhere where one can have a private conversation?'

He would get this cleared up once and for all, even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming to some back office. Of course, he could always drag her outside, but somehow he got the feeling that some place with a lock on the door would be best for making her listen to him.

The barmaid shrugged. 'You can rent a room. We have two of them, both free tonight.' She cast a glance at Hermione's table. 'Well, for now.'

Draco bit back a comment and shook his head. 'I don't need a room, just somewhere to talk.'

She shot him an annoyed look. 'And I'm telling you that if you want to have it out with your lady friend, it'll be either in front of her new bloke or in one of my rooms!'

Draco scowled and began fishing for his wallet. 'You, Madam, are a leech,' he said, fishing out the specified ludicrous amount of money.

'Nah,' she replied, looking very pleased with herself. 'I'm a businesswoman.'

Draco shook his head. A businesswoman, indeed. He got the key and then went over to Hermione's table.

* * *

Someone was in Hermione's light. She looked up, not terribly surprised to see that it was Draco. 'Shove off,' she rudely said. Couldn't he see she was busy?

Apparently not, because he chose to make a scene by hauling her to her feet by her elbow. Grand. The wizard she was talking to looked unsure what to do, so she doubted she could count on him to be her white knight. That was all right, though; she didn't particularly care for white knights. She could handle her own affairs. Her biggest problem just now was to figure out whether she would first scratch out Draco's eyes or hex off his nuts.

'Can we talk?' Draco asked, his voice smooth as silk.

'Are we physically capable? Yes. Are we going to? No.'

'Wrong again,' he replied, dragging her with him.

Definitely the nuts first. And it would have to be a particularly painful spell. She didn't bother to fight him overly much right now, though. He had the physical advantage and she didn't care to be more entertaining than she already was to the riff-raff in this pub. He took her upstairs to a tiny room and then slammed the door behind them.

She glanced at the bed and then snorted. 'In your dreams, Malfoy.'

'Not here for that,' he merely replied. 'This was somewhere private to talk.'

'I'll be at work on Monday, and you'll have plenty of opportunity to talk to me!'

'I want to talk _now_ ,' he gritted out through clenched teeth.

'Fine. Then talk.' She crossed her arms and looked up at him expectantly.

He hesitated, but then said, 'I'm not like you, Granger. I only went to Potter because I needed time to adjust. Obviously, I didn't even get that.'

'Why not come to _me_?'

'You wouldn't have understood!'

'I think I understand enough.' She tried to walk around him, but he didn't budge, and he was in the way of the door. She glared at him.

'I, too, understand enough,' he said. 'You have all this righteous indignation, because I tossed you aside as a partner, acting as if I should have known you'd have cared that I needed to process what happened. Yet you do nothing but show that you _don't_ care at all. I did the only thing I could have done after that whole disaster took place, but you refuse to see it.'

Great. So now sex with her was a disaster, even. 'Short of resigning, of course,' she said, not minding at all if he got the heavy hint. It really would make it easier on everyone if he'd simply cut his losses. She'd be able to switch jobs without leaving Harry hanging, and Harry would simply need to fill another position.

'I don't want to resign,' he said. 'I want to keep my job, and I want things to be as they were between us.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Hateful and full of spite? They are.'

'We trusted each other before!'

He simply kept missing the point, didn't he? 'Yeah, but then I raped you, remember?' she sneered.

'Why do you keep saying that?'

'Because you're acting as if it's all my fault, as if I forced you!'

He shook his head, looking honestly confused. 'That's not... I simply made a really, really big mistake that night.'

Why would he not stop saying that? 'You're not alone in that; so did I.'

'But couldn't you at least respect the fact that it's difficult for me to deal with? That I'm not used to casual sex with someone I see every day?'

She hated the way he always coated his hurtful behaviour with polite discourse, making it seem to the uninitiated that he was the reasonable one. It made her feel even more aggressive. 'Why should I? You don't seem to respect _me_!' And therein was the rub. She could hardly tell him the truth--exactly how much his behaviour had cut her. He didn't understand the nature of these things. He wouldn't understand that just because things hadn't really changed, it didn't mean he could say anything he wanted about being intimate with her and not hurt her. She was still a person. Maybe she _should_ have been able to say this to him, but she still had her pride. Besides, she didn't want to risk making him think that it meant more than it did. He was so desperate for a relationship that he would probably completely misinterpret it and try to complicate matters, and much as she had enjoyed the sex, that really wasn't something she wanted to deal with at this point in her life.

'It's bloody hard to respect you when you sleep with me only to join me on a case less than two weeks later and try to pick up another wizard in front of me! Really, Granger? You couldn't have waited a little longer?'

Hermione fought not to look away. Actually, she could easily have waited a lot longer under normal circumstances, but tonight hadn't been about sex. It had been about facing a lot of rejection and insults from someone she'd trusted more than she'd thought, and needing to feel better about herself. She'd simply wanted someone to think she was pretty and nice. No morning after insults, no complications. Only an ego boost. Besides, she'd thought he'd been gone before she'd started anything.

'Maybe you didn't quite do it for me,' she said. She could go after his ego too if he really wanted her to.

'That's ridiculous,' he sneered, his vanity clearly wounded, as intended. 'I was there, remember? If I'd _done_ it for you any better, you'd have spontaneously combusted.'

She shrugged. 'It had been a while. And I'd been thwarted a few times. I suppose you were an adequate appendage.'

'"Adequate appendage"?'

'Yes, I needed a cock,' she said without shame. 'You had one; you provided it; the edge was taken off.'

'The edge?' His teeth were gritted.

'Well, yes. It was only one time, after all. It's ok. It was... everything I expected.'

His eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled insult. 'Next you're going to tell me that you were faking it.'

She shook her head. 'I didn't, but why do men always assume that as long as the woman has an orgasm, they are sex gods? Even a blind pig finds an acorn every now and then.'

He crossed his arms over his chest. 'And it was, of course, pure chance that you managed to climax.'

She was getting to him. She loved this more than she probably should. Studying her nails, she carelessly shrugged again. 'Nah, I'm going to assume that you know the technicalities of the female body. But are you honestly going to claim that every time _you_ have an orgasm, it's great sex?'

He unfolded his arms and drew himself up, suddenly looking a lot taller. 'No. But there's coming and there's almost screaming the house down.'

'I did not scream.' She was fairly sure she hadn't. She wasn't a screamer.

'You might as well have. I almost thought you were having a seizure.'

That was because at the time she had been so far gone in the heat of the moment that she'd forgotten he wouldn't be. The reminder was another in a long line of humiliations and she lost her taste for baiting him. 'Yes, I do tend to have bigger orgasms when it's been a while. I assure you it had nothing to do with you, although I suppose you'll do quite well for those prudish witches you like to go out with. Have we finished talking about this yet?' She looked away, unable to stomach looking at him just now. Maybe her new friend hadn't left the pub yet and she'd still be able to give herself a pity shag.

* * *

Draco's fists were clenched and he was glaring down at Hermione. To add insult to injury she'd just told him he hadn't done it for her? What the hell was she on about? He _knew_ she'd enjoyed herself. She'd been so far gone that she'd mindlessly clawed at him and begged him for more. Why would she claim that she hadn't? Why wouldn't she let him keep any kind of dignity?

He wasn't the only one who had given in to temptation that night, and he certainly wasn't the only one handling it poorly.

For all her talk about how easy it was to sleep with someone and then pretend that nothing had changed, she certainly did a poor job of trying not to alienate him. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was afraid he'd want her again!

Well, her fear was justified. He did want her.

All her talk about his alleged lack of prowess was pissing him off, but at the same time all that talk of her orgasming... it made him remember how it had felt. It made him want to feel it again.

Maybe he ought to make her remember as well. It seemed like she could use a good reminder. He ignored the voice telling him that the combination of red-hot anger and searing lust couldn't lead to anything good.

'If we've finished here...' she said, attempting to push past him to get to the door.

He easily stepped back to block her and then locked it.

'What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?' she growled. 'I'm _finished_ here! I have someone waiting for me!'

'It has occurred to me that maybe I need to rectify something.'

Her eyes flickered and she faltered a bit. 'Like what?'

He reached down to smoothly remove her wand from her. Somehow, he deemed that safer. Then he tangled his hands in her hair, ignoring her wince. 'Obviously, I can't live with being just barely "adequate", as you put it.'

'Why not?' she asked, trying to pull back, but he held her in place, refusing to let go. 'You've been getting by whilst being just barely adequate in everything else so far,' she added.

He smiled, and then threw her against the door, forcing her to fling up her arms, so she wouldn't hit it face first. Before she could push away, though, he came up behind her, pushing her flat against it. He could practically feel her shaking with anger, and made sure she couldn't headbutt him as he bent down to whisper in her ear, 'Take it back and I have no issue with you.'

He wasn't concerned about physically hurting or intimidating her. They'd been partners for seven years. Seven long years filled with annoyances and arguments, but also with enough shared violence that he knew exactly how far he could go before he would even begin to push her limits, and what signs to look for when those limits were reached. As it was, she was still in a position where she could--and probably gladly would--dismember him if she felt he took it too far.

She tried to free herself, but she didn't have enough room to move, and he only pushed harder against her. 'Step back,' she coldly said. 'I don't want to hurt you.'

That was a blatant lie. He knew that given half the chance, she would make him bleed on principle. He shifted his hips slightly, pressing against her so she could feel what their conversation had done to him, and he heard her gasp. 'Maybe this is how you like it...' he mused, a bit surprised at himself. This wasn't him. Clearly she brought out the worst in him and he should go. Never mind Hermione's limits--since when did he use _any_ kind of force on a woman that hadn't been assessed and classified as a lethal threat first?

Then again, Hermione was very likely to be a lethal threat to him after this.

She stilled. By now she'd be furious and trying to verbally emasculate him even worse than she already had. But damn, he couldn't get the image of her writhing under him out of his head. It was driving him mad. It was making him fantasise about roughly doing things to her that no man should ever even consider doing to a woman. Of course, in his fantasies, she wanted him to do it. She begged him to continue.

'Is that what you get off on?' she asked, her voice far less angry than he'd expected and more... curious? He frowned. That was certainly an odd turn.

'No,' he said, his voice clipped with anger and frustration that right now he _was_ getting off on it. 'I don't like casual sex; I don't like violent sex; I--'

'Do it,' she interrupted him.

Two simple words that sent what blood was left in his brain rushing to his groin. 'What?' he said. Stupid question.

'Do it,' she repeated, turning her head to look at him. 'Like this. Prove to me that you know how to handle a witch like me, at least in bed.' She was taunting him, but there was a real request in her eyes. A real vulnerability.

He closed his eyes on an exhale. He should be disgusted or at the very least able to say no, but he feared that he was very much neither of those things. What was she doing to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview:
> 
> She'd leant in over him to snatch his ink and froze mid-motion from the shock. His scent only ever changed whenever he was seeing someone--as if he tried to tailor himself to the witch, giving up who he really was. It came as a much bigger surprise to Hermione than it should have that he was seeing someone already. It shouldn't have surprised her so much; Draco was a serial monogamist who spent a lot of time searching for the perfect mate. He was doing the logical thing. Talk about double standards, though. Hadn't he been on her case for going after someone after only a couple of weeks? Typically male. It was all right for him to have fun, but she had to stay home and... have babies or something.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione held her breath, refusing to take it personally if Draco declined taking her again. She'd given him an opportunity to redeem himself and it was entirely up to him whether he was going to take it. She didn't delude herself into thinking he would feel better about this time than he had about the last time, and she knew that he'd probably treat her with the same, if not worse, derision.

The way she saw it, however, was that she didn't really have anything to lose, and she really wanted him inside her in the kind of hard, punishing fuck that his behaviour promised. If he could deliver on that, she foresaw an epic climax that would definitely help her ignore his betrayal and disgust.

She could feel him breathing heavily against her ear, his erection still pressed against her back. 'You're one evil little bitch, did you know that?' he whispered, his voice hoarse.

'And yet you want me,' she replied, not hiding her smirk. 'How does that make you feel, Drakie-poo?'

He reached forward and yanked at her blouse in a manner meant to destroy it. 'Dirty,' he growled in her ear. 'Pathetic.' He pushed the torn cloth and her skirt and knickers to the floor, with complete disregard for her consent or comfort. 'Violent.'

Hermione was getting gooseflesh from the chill of the room. Although maybe it wasn't entirely from the room temperature. Anticipation was knotting in her stomach again, and her every nerve-ending was tingling with it, her nipples hardening at the prospect of even the slightest touch. She wanted it so much.

She heard the rustle of him removing at least some of his own clothes, but he still kept her trapped between the door and his body. She hoped so badly that he would take her here, like this.

His one hand came around, pressing against her belly, and his other hand went to her back, applying pressure, forcing her to take a step back and lean forward, still braced on that damn door. Satisfied with the result, he slid the hand from her belly up to her breasts whilst the hand on her back went down to cup her arse. He leant forward to murmur into her ear, 'This was how you wanted the small ones, correct?'

She mutely nodded.

'Then I guess it'll do for "adequate" ones as well.' He made a casual motion with his hand behind her, and suddenly his finger was inside her. The sensation was so unexpected that she couldn't keep back a moan. 'You're wet,' he observed, moving his finger inside her, making her squirm a bit. 'It's no great surprise, though, is it?' he continued. 'You'd be wet for anyone, wouldn't you?'

'N-no,' she gasped. 'Not--not anyone.' Her anger at the accusation was curiously absent, instead there was just some secret thrill. She was enjoying his anger.

He grabbed her breast hard. 'You're lying! If you can't talk without lying to me, don't talk at all. Is that clear?'

She nodded again, biting her lip. She should argue the point, she really should. But there was something about his voice and the way he touched her that really just made her want to obey him, for fear that he wouldn't continue if she didn't and... she really wanted him to continue.

'Good girl,' he breathed. 

The hand on her breast slid down between her legs, seeking out the most sensitive area and playing with her, making her almost weak with the direct stimulation. From behind, he added another finger inside her and she whimpered, unable to help herself.

'Yeah, you like that, don't you,' he muttered. 'You're such a horny little thing.'

'Yes,' she whispered.

'Fucking one guy after another because nobody can subdue the burn for long. Squirming, offering yourself up like a bitch in heat.'

She gasped, not at the words, but at the way the sensations inside her intensified. He stepped a little closer, and she felt his naked cock pressing against her. Oh, how she wanted it. He didn't offer it, though. Instead he just silently kept the fingers of one hand rubbing over her in a circle motion, while the fingers of the other hand slid in and out of her. It was maddening. But not enough.

'I want you,' she finally said.

She was promptly rewarded--or punished, she wasn't sure which--by rougher, faster motions. 'You get what I decide to give you, nothing else,' he said.

Again that odd thrill. She really needed to re-examine her own issues. The feelings inside her were building, soaring... 'Please,' she stuttered, 'I'm so close.'

'Then come,' he said. 'Show me what a good slut you are.'

It was enough to send her over, to have her moan and tremble and contract around his fingers. He groaned as if in pain, but let her ride out the wave before he removed his hands, leaving her feeling empty and alone for the second it took him to finally, finally enter her in one hard stroke.

* * *

The aftershocks of her orgasm were still there. He'd entered her too soon. Suppressing a groan, Draco bit his lip and tried to think of something else. He could only imagine what had damaged her so badly that she'd come from being called a slut. He wasn't really much of a dirty-talker, but he'd been so angry and then he'd sensed that she'd actually liked it. He'd been right. She liked to be told what to do, and she liked to be told she was promiscuous and inferior.

How messed up was that?

And how messed up was it that he'd enjoyed doing it so far?

'Move,' she moaned, squirming against him. 

Draco had to grab her hip hard to make her stand still. 'I'll move when I want to, witch,' he growled.

'Yeah? I thought the problem was that you really, really wanted to.' The taunt was ended on a breathy laugh.

He swatted her backside. 'Be nice or I'll leave.'

'You can do that?' She gyrated her hips just the tiniest bit against him.

'Want to find out?' He was bluffing; he really doubted he could. She was so hot and slick and _tight_ around him, and it was all he could do to keep from surging ahead or groaning and babbling like a madman. His hand slid down between her legs again, lightly brushing against her, making her jump from the sensitivity. Still too soon. 

Then she surprised him by saying, 'Nah, I suppose being a cold bastard has its perks.'

What? He'd been goaded into having sex with her in some creepy pub who-knew-where, and she called him _cold_? He couldn't believe what he was hearing--cold was the last thing he was! Fine. Who cared about lasting and making it good for her, anyway? He pulled back and roughly slammed into her again, almost making her lose her balance, and he didn't even give her time to recover from her surprise before he did it again, and again.

Sweet, heavenly bliss. He had no idea how she could feel so good. Maybe it was the way she always got his blood boiling with anger and how she'd unwittingly been teasing him for days with her eyes and her lips and her skin and...

Or maybe it was the way she clearly wanted him to take her. She was making sounds that were definitely from enjoyment and matching him thrust for thrust, demanding more, still taunting him with the feel of her and her scent and...

A desperate groan was ripped from him. He wasn't used to this. He didn't _understand_ this. He didn't understand the sudden fire in him that she seemed to so easily be able to stoke. He didn't like it. It meant he wasn't in control, and he hated not being in control. He hated having this kind of fire for a witch who didn't care about him. He hated her for doing this to him. He hated her for making him respond and making him take her in this tacky, impersonal way in a disgusting little room of a disgusting little pub.

He became rougher with her. Harder. And she _liked_ it. Worse, _he_ liked it. He was going to come soon, and it would probably be as intense as last time.

And he hated it.

* * *

Hermione didn't know what suddenly drove him, what suddenly made him move so hard and fast, driving into her with so much force that she had to use considerable strength to keep enough distance from the door to keep her head from banging against it.

But she loved it.

This was the kind of mindless fuck she wanted.

'More,' she whispered.

'Never enough, is it?' he ground out. 'You'll never get enough.'

No, she wouldn't. Ever. He could pound into her until she was black and blue and she would still beg for more. She'd still want that feeling of his cock sliding into her, rubbing all the right spots. She was so, so close to coming again, and he was relentlessly moving, slamming into her like he was furious with her for making him like this. He probably was. She should make him furious more often.

He reached around and touched her between her legs again, making her gasp. So intense. He didn't keep touching her, though, he just grabbed hold of her hips once again and forcefully controlled her movements to be in time with his, slamming her hard against him as he slammed hard against her. He almost went too deep, hurting her on each thrust, but she didn't care. She loved it.

'Goddamn it, Hermione,' he growled. 'I'm...' He didn't finish the sentence, only moved faster.

She knew. He was close. She could sense the desperation in him that mirrored her own. He slid his hands up to grab her breasts, roughly, without any finesse, and she loved it.

'Come,' he whispered. 'Come for me again. Show me what it's like.'

Carefully placing her forearm against the door so he wouldn't accidentally brain her, Hermione freed up the other hand and reached down to touch herself. It took all of five seconds for the sensations to completely overwhelm her. The tingling in her breasts and between her legs intensified and then suddenly that big knot of tension in her belly tensed even more, drawing all of her being into it, and then releasing it in one glorious rush of ecstasy, making her moan and tremble and go weak in the knees. If he hadn't been holding her up, she would have slumped against the door.

'That's it,' he grunted, still moving. 'Th-that's...' He was breathing hard, but he hadn't come. Why hadn't he come?

He wrapped one hand around her throat and pulled her backwards a bit to nibble on her neck, never stopping. She was so sensitized that she felt herself throbbing, clenching around him... with a gasp, she realised she was coming again. She didn't really want to, but before she could check herself, she moaned and trembled, feeling her muscles clench almost painfully.

He let up a little, but didn't stop moving, didn't stop touching, didn't stop tasting. He wasn't grabbing her hard any more, though; he was caressing her, and his movements were less rough.

She didn't want him to slow down and take his time. She wanted him to _come_.

Deliberately, she turned her head and caught his lips, kissing him deeply, teasing him with her lips and tongue.

His orgasm was almost immediate.

* * *

The climax was so all-consuming that it took Draco a few minutes to regain full use of his brains again, but when he did, he wanted to punch the wall. He'd managed to stay in control through two of her orgasms and then he lost it on a kiss? _He'd_ wanted to be the one in control. To be the one who decided when he'd come. And once again she'd one-upped him.

She was the one to break the silence as she leisurely bent down to pick up her torn and discarded clothes. 'I knew you were a kisser.'

Not his fault that her kisses were so damn erotic. 'Enlighten me on how you reached that conclusion.'

She shrugged, locating her wand and fixing her blouse before she even bothered putting on her underwear. 'You came on a kiss the last time too. Also, you seem to have a thing for intimacy.'

Yes, because a desire for intimacy was so damn unique. Everyone wanted it except her! Why couldn't she be normal? At least if she were normal, he wouldn't have to feel so damn confused about what was happening to him. 'And who knew you'd be getting all wet from being called a slut,' he shot back.

'You do realise that if you call me that out of bed, I'm still going to eviscerate you, right?' Her slightly shaky voice made him feel ashamed of himself. What was she doing to him? Why... why were they doing this?

He began getting dressed as well. He was so confused and frustrated he couldn't even voice his feelings. He didn't want this. He didn't. Yet at the same time, he couldn't get out of his head that this room had a bed and she shouldn't be leaving like this. 'I won't. And, I mean, I didn't leave you wanting. I could have.' He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, only that he was saying it wrong.

'I just love how men always seem to think that women's orgasms are optional.' She had her knickers and blouse on and was sliding up the skirt. He wasn't sure why this reverse striptease was almost as erotic to him as that kiss had been, but it was.

And... exactly what kind of men had she known? 'I just love how you keep comparing me to men I don't even know. Stop.'

'Sorry,' she muttered.

'I'm guessing it's been so long since you've been with someone worth your time that you automatically assume that nobody is.' He didn't understand it, he truly didn't. She was clever, she was pretty, and she was explosive both in bed and out of it. She wouldn't have any trouble finding a wizard to be with if she tried. Why didn't she try?

'I've been with plenty of worthy men,' she said. She was now fully dressed and looking at him. Her hair was all messed up. People would know what they had been doing. He liked that. Possibly only because he didn't _know_ any of the people downstairs, but he wasn't actually sure.

The wizard she'd been talking to before would know too.

He shook his head. Why did he even care? 'No. You've had plenty of good fucks. Not the same thing. Someone worth your time would make sure you got home ok in the morning.'

'I never spend the night.'

Of course she didn't. He imagined he was very lucky indeed to have the privilege of her presence for entire nights whenever they went out on a case. Not that it was easy to appreciate such a privilege when she hogged the covers and beat on him on principle as soon as she woke. 'He would at the very least offer that you could,' he just said.

'I don't want a man "worth my time"; I want good fucks.'

'I know.' Which was essentially why Draco hadn't offered they could stay the night here. She was done, he was done, she wouldn't see any reason to stay.

Then, with a small wave, she left.

* * *

The problem with wizards like Draco Malfoy, Hermione decided, was that they had difficulties thinking outside the box. She was outside the box and therefore he thought he had to put her back in it. She liked her life box-free.

It wasn't that he'd said anything. He hadn't. But he looked at her when they were both at the office, and she could almost see his thought processes.

She wasn't stupid. She knew very well that he didn't like what they'd done. Or, rather, he'd liked it very much, but he didn't like the context. The only thing keeping him from trying to change said context of their relationship was that she'd--thankfully--let him know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't available for that.

He got credit for thinking the thought, though. It had to be difficult for him to even consider her in a respectable fashion, what with his family and everything.

She knew that sometimes he _wanted_ to say something, but she couldn't be certain whether he had something on his mind regarding what had happened or whether it was something else entirely. He would begin forming the first word of the first sentence and then he'd get a look of supreme annoyance and walk away.

He probably had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that he liked things as they were just as much as she did. He really needed to learn that sometimex sex was nothing more than sex and he didn't have to fix it. Everyone had got what they wanted and it had simply been... a pleasure.

Then one day, she discovered quite by accident that his scent had changed. She'd leant in over him to snatch his ink and froze mid-motion from the shock. His scent only ever changed whenever he was seeing someone--as if he tried to tailor himself to the witch, giving up who he really was. That he was seeing someone so soon came as a much bigger surprise to Hermione than it should have. It made sense, really. Draco was a serial monogamist who spent a lot of time searching for the perfect mate. He was doing the logical thing. Talk about double standards, though. Hadn't he been on her case for going after someone after only a couple of weeks? Typically male. It was all right for him to have fun, but she had to stay home and... have babies or something.

'What's wrong? You got a funny look on your face just now,' he told her, noticing her reaction.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember what she'd been doing. 'Nothing. Could you sign off on those?' She thrust the parchments she'd been cradling in one arm whilst she'd reached for his ink at him.

'It says I witnessed the search.'

'Yes.'

'But I didn't.'

'I know.'

He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Granger, if you needed backup, why didn't you just ask?'

'Because I didn't. I do, however, need you to claim you backed me up so Harry won't have a fit.'

'Well, I won't.' He crossed his arms.

Hermione gaped. 'Oh, come on, that's not fair! I sign off when you ask me to!'

'I don't ask you to lie.'

'Oh, please. Like you really _needed_ the authorisation for the use of Veritaserum you needed me to co-apply for the other day.'

His eyes narrowed. 'If you didn't believe I needed it, you shouldn't have signed off.'

'Fine,' she gritted out through her teeth. She needed to get away from his stupid fruity scent anyway. Was it apple? 'I'll get someone else to sign off.' She yanked the parchments back and turned away from him.

'You know nobody will, not even Weasley,' he told her, amused. 'But I'll offer you a trade.'

She turned back around to face him and raised an eyebrow at him, not _quite_ breaking their unspoken agreement not to mention what had happened, but mocking him all the same.

He rolled his eyes. 'I'll risk my hide and sign off if you...' he began, pausing expectantly.

She waited, but he didn't seem to want to continue until she'd said something, so she mock-guessed, 'If I do your laundry for a month? Water your house plants? Rub Harry's glasses with perma-ink? What?'

Draco grinned. 'I like the Potter idea.'

'Already been done. A good face peel took care of it.'

'Ah.'

'Just tell me what you want in exchange for your bloody signature!'

'Easy there, Granger. I just want to know what's with that face you made.'

'Oh.' She shrugged. 'I don't like your new shampoo or whatever, that's all. It has a kind of sickly smell to it. Care to sign now?'

He looked at her in way too deep thought for a couple of moments and then he slowly grinned. 'Yeah, of course,' he said, taking the parchments from her. 'And it's interesting that you don't like my soap. I was led to believe that it's quite popular among females.'

Hermione shrugged again, not caring much for this discussion. 'To each their own,' she airily said, making a dismissive motion. 'Thanks for signing these. I do appreciate it.'

He finished the deed with a flourish and handed it back to her. 'Next time ask me to actually do a thing, not just to claim I did it.'

'Aren't you a stickler,' she muttered, nodding her thanks again, and beginning to walk away.

'I just like to do my job well. Oh, and Granger?'

She stopped to look at him. 'What?'

He held out his hands palms up. 'If you want to know about the soap, just ask.'

She hardly needed the details, so instead she walked away.

* * *

Being called into Potter's office usually meant either something very bad or something very good to Draco--the good always coming in the form of a case that took him away from Potter for a long, long time. They both seemed to benefit from those cases. He still resented being ordered around by The Boy Who'd Never Had To Make A Difficult Choice, but most days he managed to ignore who his boss was, and that was about as good as it got.

Potter dumped a file in his lap before returning to his desk. 'Convince Hermione to go, and this case is yours,' was all he said.

It was a heavy file. Heavy files usually meant interesting cases. 'Right,' Draco said, getting up from the chair.

'Is everything all right between you now?'

Draco stopped to stare at Potter, who was making a great fuss out of signing parchments. 'I don't know,' Draco drawled. 'I mean, I _would_ tell you, but if I had something to say, it would probably just make it back to her before I had a chance to talk to her.'

Potter had the courtesy to get pink cheeks. 'I assumed she already knew there were issues.'

'She didn't. Or, well, she did, but because of that, she doesn't trust me and you might as well keep your stinking case.'

At that, Potter leant back to coolly gaze at him. 'It was your decision to go to me, and I had to act in the best interest of this office.'

The office. Not Draco. Nobody ever cared to act in the best interest of Draco. Why should they? He'd only been working his arse off for the past decade, trying to prove himself to them. 'By ignoring my very simple request and immediately sending me out with her!'

'She's the only one that'll have you, Malfoy!'

'So what? You could have just tied me to my desk for a month or two!'

Potter shook his head and sighed. 'You didn't make it clear that it was temporary. I couldn't have tied you to your desk forever.'

Draco sneered. 'You War Heroes are all the same. It's all great drama and forever or never to you. You have no clue how regular people work!' 

He threw the file down and was halfway out the office, before Potter said, 'Just ask her!'

Ok. Fine! He'd ask her. He made a beeline for Hermione's cubicle, thankful that she was in. 'Been to Potter's office. Was asked if you'd go on a case with me or not.' He could hardly have made his enthusiasm more clear.

Hermione looked up. 'Well, good morning to you too. Why are you so cheery?'

He stared at her. 'Been to _Potter's office_...'

Her lips quirked. 'Right. At some point you need to get over that you work for him, you know.'

He made a dismissive gesture. 'I just need to know if you'll go, don't need a lecture.'

'What's the case about?'

'No clue.'

'That sounds promising.'

'Yes or no, Granger.'

She paused, considering, a thoughtful look in her eyes. 'Do _you_ want to go?'

Draco sighed irritably. 'This isn't about whether I want to go, it's about whether you do!'

'What if my response depends on yours?'

'Yes,' he ground out. 'I haven't been out on a decent case in ages, all right? I'm bored.'

'Hmm...' She pursed her lips. 'Let me read the file and then decide.'

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. 'You already decided.'

'No, Draco,' she said, 'I haven't. If it's a really good one, I'll go. If it's not, then I'd rather stay at home than risk getting stuck in some deserted place with you all through Christmas--again.'

'That was years ago,' he muttered.

'Yes, and you were right charming. Forgive me if I don't want to spend Christmas with the Grinch again.'

'The who?'

'You.'

'Ah.' He shrugged. 'Does it really matter that much?'

'Let me put it this way: I might have to kill myself if it happened again.'

Draco frowned. This was hyperbole at its best. He hadn't known Hermione to be quite that dramatic. 'So you had to exchange gifts with your friends and family on another day--big whoop!'

'It has nothing to do with presents and everything to do with _Christmas_.'

'I thought Christmas was about giving and receiving gifts.'

'I almost feel sorry for you,' she said, making him glower at her, 'but this exactly is why I want to avoid getting stuck with you for Christmas. I want to be home with my family for warm and cosy fun times, not off with you, cold, hungry, and bickering.'

Like he wouldn't be more comfortable at home as well in that scenario! He just didn't understand the big fuss. Christmas was merely another one of those holidays. Maybe he'd want it more once he had his own family, but he didn't, and she didn't, and there was no reason to be so condescending about it.

'The file is on his desk,' he clipped out. 'Make up your mind and let me know.' Then he turned his back on her and went to his own cubicle to do some more lovely paperwork.

* * *

Going on a case with Draco in December would probably be a really bad idea. They wouldn't be able to take a break for the holidays if it drew out and she _really_ wanted to watch the look on Harry's kids' faces as they unwrapped her presents. Not to mention that she was overdue for a visit home and her mother made the best Christmas pudding in the whole world.

She couldn't go. She really couldn't.

Except a young witch was missing and if they went _now_ , they might find her in time for the holidays.

Damn it.

What would Draco's new girlfriend say to this mission? She probably didn't know that Draco and Hermione had... well. No reason to tell her, either, she supposed. It wasn't like they couldn't be professional. After all, they had been professional for several years now.

'Keep frowning like that and you'll get wrinkles. Well, more of them, anyway.'

'Why are you pestering me while I'm thinking?' she growled. 'I thought I was just going to let you know what I decided.'

'Yes, but it's been two hours since you picked up the file. I got tired of waiting.'

She looked up at him, still undecided. He wasn't the cheating kind. If they went, it would be strictly platonic. Like before. It would be a good chance for her to show that everything _was_ like before. And also, it would be a good chance to try to work on his social skills so he could get another partner. Harry had made it clear to her that if nobody was prepared to partner up at least semi-regularly with Draco by February, then he would start the proceedings to get Draco transferred to another department within Magical Law, and he would probably never see another field case again.

'If we get stuck for Christmas, I'm expecting a very expensive present,' she dully said.

He grinned at her. 'Deal. What made you decide to go?'

She shrugged, carefully closing the file. 'There's a young witch missing. Her family will be devastated if we don't find her.'

Draco's grin faded. 'You know they might be devastated even if we do.'

'I know.'

'Last time we found a body--'

'I _know_. It happens. It's part of the job. It can't all be fun and games and free holidays in the Lowlands.' She didn't need him to tell her how the family had reacted the last time they'd found a body, let alone how _she_ had reacted. He hadn't dealt that well himself.

There was something about finding a dead child that kind of undid a person. Even more so when it had obviously been a painful death.

'If we're lucky, she merely doesn't want to be found.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'We pack now?'

She nodded. With any luck, it wouldn't even be dark by the time they got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((too tired to find a decent preview, sorry :P))  
> PREVIEW:
> 
> She smirked again, the annoying witch. 'No, I noticed you didn't sleep that well.'
> 
> 'Neither did you,' Draco pointed out. 'The walls are very thin and I heard you moving. A lot.'
> 
> 'Maybe I just moved in my sleep.'
> 
> He snorted. 'Hardly. You sleep like the dead. One time, I actually thought you'd really died.'
> 
> 'Did not!' she scoffed.
> 
> 'Did too! And I was about to call it in when you let out this really loud snore...'
> 
> She stopped to stare at him. 'I do _not_ snore!'
> 
> 'Uh-huh. Yeah, you do. Sometimes I'm surprised we even have a roof in the morning.'


	11. Chapter 11

'This is where the missing witch was last seen?' Draco squinted at the small Muggle village lying in front of them, positively brimming with electrical light on this already dark December afternoon. He disliked Muggling it _so_ much. Why did all of their more involved cases suddenly have to involve Muggles?

Hermione nodded. 'We might have to go back and question her friends and family but Burke actually did an impressive job of that as well as asking around down here.'

'Burke...' Draco frowned. 'He's been out of training a year, hasn't he? He couldn't have partnered up and gone?'

'No, he had to stay at home for personal reasons.'

'Oh, right. His wife is having a baby soon. I forgot.'

Hermione wrinkled her nose. 'Yes. He's just a kid!'

'He's twenty-two.'

'Exactly. Like I said, a child. Who _plans_ to have children at that age?'

'And you think _I'm_ judgemental, Hermione?'

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and then began walking down towards the village. 

'I wish we could simply Apparate home each night. I have a very comfortable home, you know,' Draco muttered.

'Yes, yes, camping out at random houses with me is dreadful. I heard you.'

How she'd heard that, he had no idea, because he'd never said such a thing. Not recently, at any rate.

'Do you think it'll be a one- or two-bedroom place?' he asked, not certain how he felt about either prospect.

'With our luck, it's probably one. We can always hope for two, though.'

She didn't want to share a bedroom with him? Well, he did suppose that if there wasn't going to be any sex, then sharing a bed was more than a little inconvenient at this point. Especially considering how hard it would be to fall asleep in that bed. He could vividly imagine it; lying next to her, almost but not quite feeling her body heat, listening to her breathing... He was already half out of his mind over her and that would probably push him over the edge.

'Yeah, separate bedrooms is the only way you can keep your hands off me,' he said with a smirk.

The way she snorted at him suggested that maybe she didn't consider that a problem. His vanity didn't like that. She'd initiated sex with him _twice_ , so obviously she must be attracted to him. No need for her to pretend that that wasn't the case.

He at least had no problem acknowledging that he still wanted her, but it mustn't happen again. He couldn't sleep with his partner like that. It was... unprofessional. He didn't mind Hermione _wanting_ to sleep with him, but he couldn't afford hormones to get the better of him again. He wasn't a teenager. He was a grown man who had to do whatever he could not to cause drama with his partner, because he knew very well what damage she could do to him if she should so choose.

'What's the matter?' she asked, nudging him to take a turn. He hadn't even noticed they'd reached the houses.

He realised he'd been frowning and quickly smoothed out his features. 'Nothing. Simply thinking about the case.'

'Ah, indeed,' Hermione said with a sigh. 'Are we siblings, friends, or a couple this time? You know, maybe you could be _her_ boyfriend.'

'She's more than a decade younger than us!'

'Not unheard of, Mr Judgemental.'

Draco scowled at her. He would not even _pretend_ to be seeing someone not yet out of her teens. 'Still a bad idea. They might be suspicious as to why she'd run away from me. Besides, Burke made a note of someone she appeared to be seeing here.'

'Fine. So we're simply two of her friends, looking for her.' She stopped in front of a house, frowned, checked the number and moved on.

'And I'm never playing your brother again,' he said.

'That's usually what you want!'

'That was before I slept with you.' That was a little more blunt than he'd meant it to be. Still, there was something to be said for the truth.

She stopped and stared at him, before getting her bearings enough to say, 'That doesn't--'

'But it does change things, Hermione,' he said, his voice quiet. 'At least a little. I can't pretend to be your brother any more.' He wasn't that competent an actor.

She looked away. He was sorry that he made her uncomfortable, but things had to be clear between them. 'This is us,' she muttered, hurrying up to the front door of a quaint little house and unlocking it.

* * *

Perhaps Draco did have a point. Pretending to be someone's sibling when you'd known them carnally might not be that easy. What if lingering attraction or tiny hints of intimate knowledge showed? But then again, it wasn't as if people would be _looking_ for any signs that they weren't siblings. People had a tendency to accept things at face value--which was largely why Draco's cold kisses had been able to pass for this long.

'All right,' Hermione said when they were inside. 'We'll say we're friends of her and each other.'

'Such a stretch,' he drily commented before going in to check on the rooms.

Well, it was, wasn't it? They'd never been friends. They'd barely got along or even liked each other. They'd just kept each other alive. And had sex sometimes. If twice could be called sometimes. But this time they wouldn't have sex. He was as far as she knew in a relationship and even if he should stoop that low, it wasn't Hermione's way.

'Two bedrooms,' he called out. His voice was neutral about it.

'Oh, good!' Hermione said, honestly feeling the relief. She could sleep next to him again if she had to--she could!--but she just preferred if she didn't have to. There was simply something about sleeping next to a warm male that you sexually desired and couldn't touch that was extremely frustrating. If the circumstances had called for it, however, she would have done it. She could be mature and professional if she absolutely had to. 

Draco appeared back at the entrance. 'Both kind of tiny, though. Odd place, this. What kind of house doesn't have a master bedroom with a decent bed?'

Hermione shrugged. 'A house that doesn't need it? Where do you want to go first?'

He shot her an odd look. 'No rush or anything,' he muttered. 'Relax. We'll be out of here before Christmas. It's two weeks away!'

'Uh-huh. Haven't heard that one before. And it's only ten days away.'

He rolled his eyes at her. 'Ok, fine. How about an early supper whilst we sort out the details?'

She nodded. 'All right. But I suppose I should change then.'

'Into what? You're already Muggled up and I sincerely doubt this town even has a restaurant that requires the staff to have cooking skills. Let's just go.'

Hermione's eyebrows rose. He certainly had a way of provoking her. Was it _really_ so difficult to give her five minutes to change? 'Wow, if that's indicative of your understanding of women, no wonder you get dumped a lot.' 

'What, you consider this a date?' He wrinkled his nose in what had _better_ just be confusion.

'No! But I still want to look presentable when I go out.' Seriously, who did he think she was?

He snorted and shook his head. 'Presentable? What, like with that tarty skirt you wore in Firrhaven?'

'You'd better have meant tartan,' she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

'It barely covered your arse!' 

Oh, he was asking to die.

'My arse is what won us that case whilst you were sleeping it off!' she hissed.

'Dragon dung! Why do you suddenly think you have to promote yourself like a common scrubber?'

Hermione blinked, not sure whether to scream, beat him, hex him or just lock herself in one of the bedrooms. 

She reminded herself that Draco Malfoy had always called her names. The difference was, however, that now when he called her names, she didn't have the same defences. That's what you got from sleeping with an arsehole. Why couldn't he have been as crappy in bed as he was outside it? Now she was stuck with stupid lust for his stupid body, whilst his personality was as rotten as it had ever been. If only she could gag him and tie him up and never have to deal with his personality again.

'I know you think I'm some kind of worthless whore,' she finally said, 'but just remember that you didn't mind that so much when you were the one using my services.' She slowly turned, meaning to put away her things before gritting her teeth and enduring his presence again.

She was flung back around and shoved against a wall. 'You're missing the point,' he growled at her. 

He was seriously invading her space and she wasn't appreciating it. However, he probably needed to feel that he was in control, even if only physically, and she would endure it for a few minutes if it meant getting him to stop acting like an arse. If all else failed, she could hex his bits off.

'And what's that?' she sneered back at him.

'You're not going out there, flirting, snogging, and shagging your way through this case.'

'You're not the boss of me, Malfoy.'

'No, Potter is. I wonder what he'll say if I put my complaints in an official report.'

She pursed her lips in thought and spent a few seconds considering that. Harry wouldn't be able to turn a blind eye to it if it went on record, but she'd hardly lose her job either. 'What's it to you?'

'There was a time when you didn't rub this... little hobby of yours in my face. Could we please go back to that?'

Hermione thought that sounded like an odd request and she opened her mouth to say so, when he moved, and she caught a whiff of his soap. It was his usual. Nutmeg. A classic, she supposed. But also a dead give-away to her that he probably wasn't with the apple-witch any longer. Now this ridiculous show of dominance suddenly made sense. 'Just because you broke it off with yet another witch doesn't mean I'm available to you,' she said. 'The sooner you get that through that thick skull of yours, the better.'

'Interesting you should say that, considering you're the one that was jealous,' he said.

She gaped. 'What?'

'I saw the look on your face back when you thought you'd figured me out. You were ready to scratch someone's eyes out.' His voice was low and insinuating he knew something about her that nobody else knew. He didn't really. He was mistaken.

'I do not _get_ jealous!'

'Right.' He had an insufferable look that made her want to smash his face in. Well, more than she wanted to smash his face in for still having a grip on her arms and forcing her up against a wall. At least their bodies didn't touch. After these most recent insults she wouldn't have been able to handle it if they were. She would have castrated him on the spot. Certain things were simply not sexy.

'Right! If anything, I was just surprised that you--' She cut off, realising too late that there was no good way to complete this sentence. Crap. She still had to work with the man.

'That I what?' he very predictably asked.

She sighed. 'That you'd had sex first, ok? You're so repressed; the fact that _you_ managed to be first made me aware of exactly how... how I can't be me in our tiny wizarding world.'

'So you didn't care; you only saw it as a sort of competition?' He looked like he didn't believe a word she said.

'I'm not a possessive person.' She would have loved to explain that it didn't have anything to do with him but rather her whole life philosophy in which monogamy didn't really play a part any longer, but she suspected he would just brush it off as her not having met the right wizard yet. Who knew, maybe she hadn't. All she knew was that Malfoy wasn't that wizard.

'So, did you go out and have sex then?' he asked.

She blinked. 'What?'

'Did you? I mean, since you obviously cared about who got some first, you wouldn't want to be left behind, right?' His hands were gripping her arms so tightly she was certain she would bruise.

'That's really none of your--'

'Answer me!'

She winced. They were yelling now? 'No! Ok? But that has nothing to do with you.'

He cocked his head and looked at her for a moment before stepping back, letting go of her. 'I suppose not,' he then said. 'But it's been an awfully long time for you, hasn't it?'

'Not really. You simply don't get it, do you?' She wearily leant her head against the wall. Maybe she needed to see if she could make him understand. At least so he wouldn't draw the wrong conclusions again. 'The Ministry is a very conservative place, so I can't just go about my personal life any way I want to. I am a witch with political ambitions. My only chance to ever have sex is either by going to Muggle venues or only engaging people I trust explicitly.'

She really hoped he wouldn't make a thing out of the fact that she'd just said she trusted him. Of course she did. She had to in order to put her life in his hands. They were partners and _usually_ he didn't sell her out.

He stared at her. 'That's the oddest reason I've heard yet.'

'I've given up many things in my life to get where I am now--some were easy sacrifices, others weren't--but I'm not giving up sex too. I just need to be discreet or they won't take me seriously. They will only think about how promiscuous they find me and wonder how I can have any opinions worth listening to, because obviously people with vaginas can't both have something to contribute intellectually _and_ be a warm-blooded person with needs and desires. I mean, look at you and how you lost all respect for me as soon as I let you find me out.'

'I didn't--'

'Yeah. You did. You wanted me but you didn't respect me as a person any longer. All I want is the right to be judged by my work and not by my personal life. I won't rub anything in your face. I've always been very discreet around you in the past, haven't I? Why should I change that?'

He didn't reply. He didn't have to. Yet again, he'd been an absolute wanker, thinking her nothing but someone who was led around by her twat. Her words might have given him food for thought, but it wouldn't be long before he'd dismiss that and go back to being a wanker again. Oh, the joys of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

A meal and a strictly work-related conversation later, Draco was still not sure how to deal with Hermione.

How did you deal with that kind of attitude at all?

He didn't understand her. She made everything much harder on herself than she had to. If she was really as devoted to her grand plans as she claimed to be, then a relationship was _exactly_ what she needed--to join forces with some pillar of society, like one of the other War Heroes, and present a strong, united front.

It made him wonder what had really happened between her and Ron Weasley about five years ago to turn her off relationships to the point where she'd rather make things much harder on herself than they need be than trust someone else with her heart.

Something had to have happened. She simply wasn't the _type_ to be living like this.

'Stop staring at me,' she coolly told him as they were making their way back. 'I wore my prissiest outfit and most boring make-up just for you.'

He scowled at her. He knew she was angry with him for criticising her behaviour and the way she dressed, but didn't she _understand_ why it frustrated him?

Well, fine, maybe he didn't entirely understand it himself. The fact of the matter was that he didn't quite know how to act or feel around her. He disliked knowing about her casual sexual habits. And he didn't like seeing her flirting with other men because he didn't quite know how to cope with how casual their sex had been to her. He wasn't used to being that easily discarded by witches. Additionally, every blow landed so much heavier when he and Hermione fought now and he hated it. He still trusted her implicitly when it came to having his back, but not only had she _said_ that she didn't trust him any longer, but he didn't know who she was any longer.

He'd never slept with a witch like Hermione before. Not even once. He'd never met anyone that clever and independent, and he'd made it a life philosophy never to touch any witch who wasn't a potential mate. Either he didn't like the witch, in which case he would avoid her like the dragon pox from the beginning, or he _did_ like her, in which case he would do his best to see her again.

Hermione fit into neither of Draco's two neat, uncomplicated categories. He didn't _not_ like her, but obviously going out with her couldn't be an option even if she had wanted it. Not only would his family be more trouble than any witch could be worth, but their personalities seemed to continuously clash. He couldn't imagine six months of a relationship like that, let alone thirty years.

She let them into the house whilst Draco was trying to figure out a way to voice all of this.

'I'm going to bed,' she then said as she was taking off her coat.

'What? It's still early.'

'Yes, well, I'm tired, you're draining, and I'm counting on an early start tomorrow. Night!' She disappeared into one of the tiny bedrooms.

Hesitantly, because he was well aware of Hermione's temper, he decided to brave her mood and knock on her door. They needed to sort things between them.

'Apology accepted, now go away!' she called out, not opening the door to him.

He couldn't help but grin at that. Ok, so maybe he did need to apologise. 'I actually am sorry,' he replied.

'Of course you are!' she scoffed. Had nobody ever told her that nice girls weren't supposed to be sarcastic?

'I am! Honestly didn't mean to say you were a... were morally loose. I mean, who am I to talk, really? I was just as bad, wasn't I?'

Her door swung open and she eyed him sceptically. 'But you're a _man_ and men have _needs_.'

'So maybe sometimes I think like that,' he admitted. 'But that doesn't mean I'm insincere.'

She crossed her arms and leant against the doorframe. 'You must really be feeling the heat from Harry's scrutiny.'

'Let me put it this way: I'm more certain than ever that he's just itching for an excuse to sack me.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'Why would he need an excuse when he has so many valid reasons?'

'Oh, clever. Forgive me?'

'Fine. In the spirit of getting along, I'll forgive you. But if you ever talk down to me again, I _will_ remove your bollocks very slowly with a very dull and rusty saw whilst you're under a sensitivity curse.'

'And I suppose you will give Potter his excuse as well?' he asked, not quite able to refrain.

'No. But if you supply any new _reasons_ , I might share them with him. I don't care what you think of me, but you can't let it affect your cases.'

He didn't believe her when she said she didn't care what he thought of her. She reacted far too strongly not to care. He did, however, believe her when she said she wouldn't be petty enough to get him sacked. 'All right, then,' he said. 'Thank you, Granger.'

'Goodnight, Malfoy,' she said and closed the door in his face.

* * *

Hermione didn't get much sleep that night. Fortunately, it seemed that neither did Draco. She heard him moving around, the bed creaking as he tossed and turned, and then he was moving around again, even going to the loo at one point. In the morning, he looked like he hadn't slept at all.

That would teach him to be such a git.

It was odd, though. In all the time since they'd first slept together he'd never outright admitted he still wanted her. The second time they'd had sex hardly counted; he'd been so worked up from the case and anger at her for taunting him. Everything had been heavily flavoured by his distaste of what they were doing, she was neither stupid nor naïve enough not to know that. Yet now he seemed partially motivated by jealousy. She was fairly certain that he didn't realise it and would never admit it if he was, but the warning signs were definitely there.

She hadn't quite decided how to handle that. She knew he wasn't infatuated with her in any way, so it must just be some kind of natural possessiveness on his end. Jealousy did not equal any kind of tender feelings, after all. It just meant that someone thought that someone or some _thing_ else belonged to them. She did not belong to him, nor did she have any intention of ever belonging to him, but calling him on his stupidity could possibly bring further discontent into their partnership. 

Come to think of it, maybe the partnership was to blame. They had been on many cases together and that tended to create a rather unique bond--even if that bond didn't particularly help them get along--and now with the sex, he thought he had a say in how she ran her life. She knew he didn't approve of her ways and would rather see her settled down like a good little witch, but, really, if this was how he chose to show that, he was severely out of line. He'd never have the right to tell her what to do with her life, no matter what happened between them.

'Do we really have to do this?' Draco was scowling at her.

She barely hid a smirk. Getting up early to check the nearby forest areas before there was barely even any light had been her idea. It was a classic and in December it was _very_ uncomfortable. Draco liked his comforts. Especially when he hadn't slept well.

'We need to find the witch,' she reminded him. 'She could simply be lost in there. Or have had an accident. This seems like the only thing Burke didn't investigate at all.'

'Because it's rubbish! She would have brought her wand and this smattering of trees is hardly the Forbidden Forest.'

'If she can't heal, then her wand won't do much good to a broken limb.'

He sighed with great exaggeration as if she didn't have a perfectly valid point. 'Fine. We circle back in time for lunch?'

She smiled deviously and opened her backpack to show him the food there. 'I went out this morning when you were still passed out. Finding something to bring with us was surprisingly easy.'

He looked anything but pleased. 'I bet those sandwiches are dry,' he muttered.

'You just be glad I didn't pack dinner as well.'

'I'm thrilled.'

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at his surly mood. He'd been the one wanting this case, and now it was a huge issue that they had to go solve it? She got out her wand. 'So, I was thinking I try to detect the magic from her w--'

'Whoa! Magic around Muggles?'

'It's a missing person, Malfoy. We can't do it the slow way. You'll just have to _Obliviate_ anyone that asks too many questions.'

'That's not what you said the last time a person had gone missing.'

'Last time they turned up _dead_.'

There was an awkward pause. This topic simply didn't lend itself to petty squabbles. 'Point taken,' he then softly said. 'But it wouldn't have made much difference, even if...'

'And what if it would this time? It's Christmas, Malfoy.' The last bit came out sort of pathetic and she flinched.

He was quiet for a second, but then nodded and said, 'Right. You use magic, I'll keep an eye out for... whatever might be relevant.'

Sometimes he was quite understanding--for a clueless git.

* * *

Hermione enjoyed tormenting him far too much, Draco decided. She didn't understand how their history was eating his brain and ruining his ability to think clearly. He didn't want to be in some stupid, cold forest, looking for some lost witch with her. He didn't know what he wanted, but this was not it.

This was all very worrying. Without Hermione he did not seem to have a career, so he couldn't afford to not want to be here with her.

Sleeping with her had been a bad idea. A really, really, really _bad idea_. But once Hermione had set her mind on seduction, it had been impossible to say no. She had such a strong confidence in herself and her abilities that simply permeated everything she said and did. He'd always known that, of course, but to see it used to promote that sexy body of hers... he'd like to see any man that could reject her. Possibly, such a man did not exist. Differing sexual orientations be damned, she was simply that magnetic. Thinking was not an option when she'd decided she wanted you. Damn her games.

Draco didn't enjoy games. He liked things to be simple and easy. He liked to go out with witches with traditional values that matched his own. True, he wasn't going out with Hermione, but he knew she was pushing his buttons just because she could and didn't let a little thing like the truth get in her way of doing that. She'd always been fond of winding him up. Never before had it made him want to shag her senseless, though. He'd just been annoyed with her or--possibly more commonly--wanted to strangle her.

But bloody hell the sex had been good. He tried not to think about it too much--he didn't want to put more strain between them than he had to by continuously lusting for her--but even though both times had clearly been a mistake, he couldn't be sure that they were mistakes he wouldn't repeat if he had the chance.

Damn these Muggle trousers--jeans, he believed Hermione had called them--he'd worn today for being so tight in the groin area. But good thinking on his part to wear his new Muggle-style coat that he'd bought after Firrhaven _just_ on the off-chance that he might have to be outside in a Muggle area for any length of time in the cold again. It wasn't too bad for a Muggle coat. It didn't stop short of the arse like too many of their garments did. This meant he got to keep his arse nice and warm _and_ it hid any physical reactions he had to forbidden thoughts.

'You're very quiet,' Hermione observed, not looking at him, but keeping her eyes on her wand as she slowly moved forwards along the path. The fact that they barely had any light in spite of the Muggle torch--which had _nothing_ to do with a torch, so the name puzzled him--she'd made him hold for her so she could see where she went, only made the process even slower.

'Just tired.' He didn't mind admitting this too much.

She smirked again, the annoying witch. 'No, I noticed you didn't sleep that well.'

'Neither did you,' Draco pointed out. 'The walls are very thin and I heard you moving. A lot.'

'Maybe I just moved in my sleep.'

He snorted. 'Hardly. You sleep like the dead. One time, I actually thought you'd really died.'

'Did not!' she scoffed.

'Did too! And I was about to call it in when you let out this really loud snore...'

She stopped to stare at him. 'I do _not_ snore!'

'Uh-huh. Yeah, you do. Sometimes I'm surprised we even have a roof in the morning.'

Her mouth dropped open. He was loving this. A lot. 'This from the bloke who tosses and mumbles in his sleep and gropes poor unsuspecting people!' she grumbled.

'Sorry. Sometimes in my sleep I forget that you're not actually a woman.'

'Excuse me!' she gasped.

'Well, you know, a _normal_ woman instead of some cold harridan who completely loses it if someone seeks her warmth _in their sleep_.'

'I can't be both cold and _have_ any warmth,' she icily said. 

That was the problem, wasn't it? Her body was so warm and inviting, but she was completely emotionally unavailable. That was not how a witch should be. A witch should be warm and soft and sweet. A witch should smile and flirt and want to fall in love. A witch should care about more of a wizard's parts than his cock, and she shouldn't scoff at the idea of something as simple as staying the night. A witch should want a family of her own and not claim happiness with nothing but a job and sex and an empty house.

But then again, maybe this witch had been burnt by her failed engagement and he couldn't really blame her for that. It had taken him a long time to move on after his own fiancée had been killed. Getting the tremendous amounts of guilt down to a bearable level had seemed almost impossible at times. It wasn't the same thing, of course, but losing someone you cared about was never a good thing. Maybe Hermione was stuck waiting for Weasley to want her again. Considering their easy familiarity, Draco wouldn't be surprised at all if that were the case.

'Just mind your search,' was all he said, making her harrumph and resume trying to find any signs of the magic.

The search went on. The weather was actually rather mild, but after a few hours he was cold, tired, and still hungry after a much too small lunch--which, by the way, _had_ been dry. When would Hermione learn that those Muggle pre-packed sandwiches were always rubbish?

Also, he was bored. And much too mesmerised by the way Hermione crinkled her brow and worried her lower lip in frustration that she hadn't picked anything up yet.

He didn't feel like they would find their wayward witch out here. The reports had been too detailed for Burke to miss something as obvious as a forest stroll gone wrong. Being out here was a waste of time, but at least he could enjoy the scenery.


End file.
